


Silversong

by panda013, soultyghost



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different Fantasy Elements, F/M, Felix Hugo Fraldarius is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Slow Burn, War, a canon divergent au with slightly different elements and no crests, bladesinging, depictions of violence and discussions of past violence, felannieminibang2020, tweaked support conversations hinted at, weapon enchantments are done through bladesinging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda013/pseuds/panda013, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soultyghost/pseuds/soultyghost
Summary: Despite the fact that Annette loves to sing, there's no doubt in anyone's mind that her childish songs could never be a bladesong. That is, until an Imperial squad finds her and accuses her of being a bladesinger.Felix, as it turns out, is the kind of swordsman who had always relied on the strength of his blade rather than the dubious benefits bladesinging could provide, so he couldn't care less about the claims they'd made.Her songs are childish, but he finds himself captivated all the same.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 72
Kudos: 60
Collections: Felannie Mini Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My inspiration for this was one single thought: "Fantasy AU. Songs help to strengthen metal in different ways in an art called bladesinging."
> 
> Anyway, I've had a ton of fun working on this with soulty as my partner! Silversong is written for the Felannie Minibang 2020 event and it got a little out of hand, so you'll be able to expect some more chapters in the coming week or two. Hope you like slow burn!
> 
> The first chapter here may potentially be the longest? We'll see.

Somehow, there was never enough to do here, and yet always too much. 

The village Annette was staying in, Rahl, was a village of little consequence along the eastern border of Dominic lands. The people were kind, but it was little more than a village of children and women and the elderly, with the war still waging on as it had been for nearly five long years. So there was much to do, as far as minding the few small groups of livestock and tending the fields, and yet little of much interest. There weren’t many books to be read, and in the several months she’d been here, Annette had already gone through the ones she _had_ brought with her. 

After the third time, her requests for different books had no longer been humored by her uncle. He’d refused her request to join the Kingdom army, even before Dominic had allied with Cornelia and the Dukedom and by extension the Empire, with the claim that her skills with magic and her top marks at the School of Sorcery were just booksmarts and nothing more. And, as the heir to these lands, she needed to ensure that she lived long enough to see the end of the war, or their family name would end here. 

If she’d been a bladesinger, she could’ve avoided that. The call for bladesingers had pretty much been mandatory, across all three of Fodlan’s major countries. The Adrestian Empire had been most forceful, declaring that a bladesinger refusing to go to aid the war was punishable by death. 

Thus, Annette Fantine Dominic had been essentially banished to the village of Rahl, along with the small group of Dominic guards that had been sent here with her, to await the end of the war. No new books, hardly a soul her age, and very little to do but help tend the gardens and compose new songs. And any time she so much as set foot outside the village, at least half of her uncle’s men were next to her, urging her back for some reason or another. It became apparent rather quickly that they weren’t here to protect her, but to keep her from leaving of her own accord. 

And, however much they could, they kept news of the front away from her. 

It was infuriating. Annette wanted to go out and be _useful_ , even if it was just with her meager and self-taught faith magic. Even if the Kingdom army determined that her reason skills, while top of her class, weren’t enough for a real battle, Annette could still do _something_ to help. She was sure of it. If it had been up to her, she wouldn’t be in a small village, wasting her time being coddled and protected. 

The villagers could see it, too. 

“They’re keeping you from coming ‘round when merchants come through,” the wife of the owner of the local general store told her, when Annette was helping her clean and stock the shelves shortly after the latest delivery. “Soon as they saw them coming, they split up to find you. You must’ve given them quite a bit of trouble in the past trying to give them the slip, Miss Annette.” 

She groaned. “I haven’t given them that much trouble, Marta. My uncle just doesn’t trust me.” 

“They don’t even let you go for walks, Miss Annette,” she quipped back, adjusting a sack of flour. “You’ve been here for a few months now and it still hasn’t changed. And you’re sure it started because you wanted to join the war, and the baron wouldn’t let you?” 

“Yeah, probably.” 

Annette repositioned a bolt of fabric to make way for one from the small shipment of goods. There wasn’t a lot, probably because trade routes were increasingly hard to traverse. It was a good thing there were plenty of supplies in the village for now, and Marta sighed. 

“For what it’s worth, if you really wanted to get away, I’m sure we could figure something out,” she offered, not for the first time. Marta was a solidly built sort of woman, with broad shoulders and an intimidating glare, and Annette didn’t doubt they’d be able to help her if she asked. A lot of the people left in the village turned to Marta for guidance, as well as the former knight Noah, though he was now in his eighties. “Glenda would miss you, though. She acts like her knives have never been sharper than since you started helping her with cooking and baking sometimes, though the rest of us don’t see how, seeing as you’re a bit of a disaster in the kitchen.” 

Annette stumbled over a barrel filled with what would be quick, already prepared replacement handles for wooden tools, like hoes and rakes, and yelped. She turned to look at Marta and frowned. “I resent that!” 

Marta laughed, and Annette knew it hadn’t been said with any ill intent. 

“Well, you are clumsy, Miss Annette.” 

“I can’t help it!” she practically wailed, only very narrowly avoiding another stumble on a crate of sugar that had just been received. “Besides, you know they’d find me if I tried to slip out. Uncle would probably have roadblocks everywhere.” 

Marta made an unconvinced sound in the back of her throat but let it slide, and they fell into the steady and familiar rhythm of putting the new stock on the shelves of the small store. It was shaping up to take less time than it usually did, because there wasn’t much new stock to be had. 

After a while, as had become custom, Annette devolved into humming one of her own little tunes. It was the stocking song, but the lyrics still hadn’t quite been perfected. She still couldn’t get the line about the flour sacks just right, so she had to content herself with humming between snippets of conversation with Marta. 

She didn’t bring up her suggestion to help Annette run off to join the army again, the same as the last few times it had been offered. 

Later, when Annette was helping Glenda with her baking since she had finally declared that Annette wasn’t allowed to try _cooking_ , she was amusing the woman with one of her numerous baking songs. This one was tailored bread, since that was the bulk of what they were working with, and while Annette liked her cake song more, this one fit the mood. And Glenda recognized it from the last time, apparently, because she laughed and hummed along. 

“ _Puff, puff, puff goes the flour, when you dump it in the mixing bowl! Fold, fold, fold it all in, and then now you need to knead the dough!_ ” 

“The flour doesn’t puff so much when you pour it in gently,” Glenda teased, and Annette just grinned and waved a slightly floury hand at her as she continued kneading the mound of dough in front of her. Glenda had just closed the large iron oven door, and set out to begin timing it. 

Annette started into another part of her song, picking up the dough to flip it, but then there was a startlingly loud banging on the door that made her drop the ball of dough onto the counter in front of her with a muffled _thwumpf_. She shared a look of surprise with Glenda. Anyone that needed to talk to either of them usually knocked lightly, or poked their head in and asked if they could come inside. 

Glenda dusted her hands off and moved to open the back door. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” 

Before she could reach the door, however, it burst open and five or six Imperial soldiers pushed into the kitchen. It was a large kitchen by the village’s standards, but not large enough for that many people. Annette furrowed her brow, stepping back from the counter. 

“Excuse me!” Glenda barked, hands on her hips. “I told you I was coming to the door. What could you possibly need in such a hurry?” 

“We’re here for the bladesinger,” the clear leader of the group stepped forward, then looked past Glenda to where Annette stood, dusting her own hands. “You,” he pointed at her, “come with us now and you won’t be punished for hiding from the Emperor’s summons.” 

Annette looked behind her, then blinked. “Wait, you think _I’m_ —” 

“Don’t play coy!” another soldier snapped, stepping forward until their captain held out a hand to halt them. “The farming tools, the kitchen knives—we’ve heard about all of it! And they say you sing all the time.” 

“I-what?” her head was spinning. _Her_ , a bladesinger? It was something that she, as a child, had desperately longed to be, but she’d long since given up. Too many people had laughed at her when she sang, bright childish songs with matching lyrics about anything and everything, and scoffed at the thought that she could ever be a bladesinger. The old traditional bladesongs that had been passed down for centuries felt heavy and awkward on her tongue and always had, and many had told her that her voice was unsuited for them. 

“Are you daft?” she winced at the tone Glenda was using. “Annette sharpened the old farmer’s tools for him, you addlepated rumor-monger!” she swatted at the captain with her hand towel. “Are you that desperate to try and please your war-mad Empress, that you’ll try and take a girl with no proof?!” She raised her voice and called, “Marta! Agnes! Noah!” 

The village was small and usually quiet, and Glenda had a voice that carried. She often called out to Marta, across the way, when she was low on flour or sugar or salt or anything she might need, or even if she just wanted a chat. 

“Quiet down, you old bag,” the sound of his sword being pulled from his scabbard sent a shiver up Annette’s spine, and she stepped forward next to Glenda, putting a hand on her arm. 

“Don’t you talk to her that way!” she snapped, frowning. “I’m not a bladesinger, and—” she forced herself to stop and search for other words, because she didn’t think saying ‘ _and if I was, I’d have joined the Kingdom Army when Prince Dimitri asked for them at the beginning’_ would go over too well with the already angry imperials. “And threatening the villagers over something you misheard? Aren’t soldiers supposed to help keep the peace during war, or something like that?” 

“Don’t talk back to me,” he said, his tone low and dangerous. He was definitely angry with her. 

She drew herself to her full height, even though she knew it wouldn’t be nearly as impressive or intimidating as when Marta would sometimes do it to them in the general store, and crossed her arms. Before she could cast around for more words to say, the door to the shop out front opened and Agnes stepped through, followed by Marta with her sleeves rolled up. 

“What’s going on here?” Agnes asked in her tremulous tone. She was older than either of the other women, her tone tremulous with her age, but she had an icy glare that she directed on the men in the kitchen. Marta glanced between the soldiers and Annette and Glenda, and frowned. 

“By order of the Adrestian Emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg, we have the authority to take bladesingers into custody and bring them before her, to assist in the war effort,” the captain bit out each word in a very deliberate way, enunciating as if the women in the room couldn’t understand. “We are exercising that authority to take the bladesinger over there,” he gestured to Annette, “and turn her in. If you cease resistance, then we will leave with just her, and will not punish the rest of you for harboring her, despite the demand that all bladesingers were to join the army.” 

Glenda looked like she was about to protest, but Annette reached out to stop her and stepped forward. “I’m not a bladesinger. Step outside and I can _show_ you why.” 

Her fingers itched to guide a spell, magic thrumming in her veins. It had been a long while since she had used her magic, at least anything stronger than just conjuring a gentle breeze for some of the local children that had played too much and complained of being too warm in their coats, or a clumsy fire spell to coax her fireplace to life on cold evenings. Being as skilled in magic as she was had been the true end of her childish dreams of being a bladesinger, after all, and demonstrating that might help get them off her back. It was quite rare for a bladesinger to be capable of strong magic, be it reason or faith. 

Though she did hear that the empire’s songstress, Dorothea, could do all three, and that the kingdom had a bladesinger that could use healing magic as well, so maybe the thought that powerful magic overruled bladesinging wouldn’t sway them as much as she hoped. 

“No.” 

“No?” she repeated, incredulous. 

“That’s what I said. Stand down and submit, bladesinger.” 

Annette clenched her fists and said, slowly and deliberately, “I already told you that I’m not a bladesinger!” 

To punctuate the last word, a gust of wind tore through the kitchen and at least three of the six soldiers tumbled backwards, out the door. The captain staggered, hard, against another cabinet, one of the others stumbled against the open door, and the last was hit square in the face by a roll of dough and cursed. 

“Sorry for making a bigger mess in your kitchen, Glenda,” she said, then scowled at the captain. “Now let it go and leave me alone!” 

He narrowed his eyes. “Then you leave me no choice. Men, we take the bladesinger by force!” 

“Miss Annette!” Marta stepped into the kitchen, reaching for anything to arm herself with and coming away with a wooden spoon. “I’ll—” 

“Get back,” Annette interrupted her as the captain stooped to retrieve his sword, a steel one by the look of it, and glowered at her. “None of you should get involved over their mistake.” 

“Mistake or not, you will come with us under suspicion until it’s proven otherwise, and anyone who stands in our way will be considered complicit.” 

Annette wanted to light him on fire. She _wouldn’t_ , not in Glenda’s kitchen, but oh, how she wanted to. Instead, she blasted the remaining two soldiers out of the door into their recovering comrades with another basic wind spell, and with a quick glance at the captain, darted towards the door herself. She barely avoided one of the angry soldiers as he swiped at her, ducking into a quick roll before rising to her feet and spinning around to face them as their captain barreled out the door. 

“Get her!” 

One of them was fumbling with a bow, and Annette gave into her urge to set something on fire, now that she wasn’t in close quarters. Fire was one of her weaker spells, but the archer’s bow went up in flames and he yelped, dropping it and stamping on it. She dodged a strike from a sword that snagged her skirts. The fabric tore loudly, and she could feel the cool air as she swore. Another wind spell staggered a soldier that tried approaching with an axe raised overhead, and the axe thudded to the ground at her feet. With a scowl, Annette swooped down and hefted it up with a grunt, taking a step back. 

Two were currently out of the fight. The archer, who had managed to get the fire out but was still fumbling with seeing if his bow was still functional, and the man she’d just hit with a spell. His axe was heavier than the one she was used to, which was tucked away in her own little house, at the other side of the village. The one her uncle had found when he wanted to shunt her out of the path of the war. 

Apparently that wasn’t meant to be. 

“We have a bishop,” the captain called over, “so injuries can be healed. Just don’t kill her!” 

“Miss Dominic!” 

Oh. Her guards were there, now. She raised the axe to clumsily block a lance jab, and stepped back quickly as two of her small contingent of guards rushed forward to knock the imperial soldier to the ground. 

“Stand down!” it was the captain of her own retinue, raising his own sword in her defense as he stepped up next to Annette. It sounded like he was going to try diplomacy first, and she winced as he spoke. “Good sirs, this is Miss Annette Fantine Dominic, heir to the Dominic territories! What fight do you have with her? We have sided with the empire in this war! What quarrel have you with our lady?” 

The captain frowned. “A noble? Best be as careful as we can with her, men. Don’t want to step on anyone’s toes,” the last came out on the edge of sarcasm. 

“You’re already stepping on toes!” she stamped her foot, albeit a bit childishly, and raised her borrowed axe. 

“You are now part of the nobility of the Adrestian Empire, _Miss Dominic_ ,” his tone was scathing. She’d really pissed him off...or he didn’t care much for those who would be lesser nobility. “It should be an honor to be scouted to serve Her Majesty as a bladesinger in the Imperial Army!” 

“Miss Dominic…?” her men turned to her, and she shook her head. 

“Are you _deaf_ ?” the woman’s voice came from the doorway of the bakery’s kitchen, where Marta stood with Noah, the old ex-knight, looking thoughtful behind her. They must’ve filled Noah in when he’d arrived while Annette was distracted after leading the soldiers outside. Marta leveled a pointed glare at the Imperial captain. “She _told_ you, time and time again, that she’s not a bladesinger! Miss Annette’s not one that would lie to you, you know!” 

“We have reason to suspect she may be a bladesinger, and as a citizen of the empire that should be enough for her to come along willingly, and even if she’s not a bladesinger, your Miss Dominic seems to be skilled enough in reason magic to lend aid to the efforts.” He pointed his sword at Marta, which set Annette’s blood boiling. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she could take all the men herself, and she could tell her own guards were hesitant to attack them. Her uncle had specifically ordered them not to cause trouble with imperials, though she probably wasn’t supposed to have overheard that. “It should be an honor to help your leader, Miss Dominic, and this resistance will be considered treason if you don’t surrender and come along quietly.” 

She grit her teeth, looking around, and scowled. The villagers here didn’t deserve this, all because Annette was loyal to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus still and not Cornelia’s farce of a Dukedom under the rule of the Adrestian Empire. And especially not over such an unbelievable claim that Annette was actually a bladesinger. It was a small village, and the able-bodied were already off at war. It wasn’t worth dragging them into it, and she couldn’t stomach it. 

Annette dropped the axe. 

“Lower your sword, sir,” she finally said, after a monumental effort to control her tone and wipe the scowl from her face. “I’ll go with you, even though you’re wrong and I’m not a bladesinger. Just leave the villagers be.” 

“Miss Dominic—” one of her guards stepped forward, and she held out her arm. 

“I said _stand down_ ,” she hissed, and the man obeyed. 

“Lord Dominic will—” 

“— _not_ be pleased if his citizens come to any harm,” Annette interjected as the imperial captain started giving the others orders to prepare to head to Enbarr and he and his second eyed Annette carefully. “Send a messenger to him, but keep the men here to help and protect the villagers. These men believe, somehow, that I am a bladesinger, so I will be fine.” 

“Are you done with your little chat, _Miss Dominic_?” the captain emphasized her name, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him. “We will have to have you bound for the journey. You’ll forgive the insult, I’m sure, considering your skill with reason magic and your recent attempts to escape.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “So be it.” 

He nodded. “Good. Men, bind her and take her away while we finish our preparations. The rest of you, clear the area! Any struggles and we will have to use force.” 

One of the soldiers shoved Annette forward, and she stumbled with a curse her uncle would have scolded her for, and straightened. She glared at the man as he pulled her arms behind her and she felt cuffs, cold iron, enclosing around them. Glenda looked like she was about to say something, and Marta had started to reach for a shovel nearby, but Annette gave a short jerk of her head, and Noah stepped forward to placate them. 

“She will be fine. They say that she’s a bladesinger, so they will guide her safely, if a bit improper.” He eyed the men that had cuffed her, iron manacles cool against her skin, and one of them sneered at him. 

“Be safe,” Annette told them as she was guided past, offering a tight smile. “I will see you again.” 

* * *

When they left, the imperial soldiers bound her hands in front of her and allowed her the dignity of riding alone, provided that they kept a circle of guards around her. Her men were torn, and she could see it in their eyes as they were forced to watch her be led away. They knew as well as she did, maybe even better, that her uncle had sent her out here to keep her away from Cornelia’s Dukedom and out of the clutches of the Adrestian Empire. 

They’d seen too many minor nobles of Faerghus swayed to the Empire because Edelgard was ruthless in her methods. Too many heirs had been captured and used as incentive on the battlefront, and killed when the family was too loyal to the kingdom. Baron Dominic only looked to prevent that from happening, when he pledged himself to the Dukedom and sent Annette away. 

And yet, here she was. 

The bitter irony was not lost on her. 

After half a day’s ride, they were forced to make camp as darkness descended upon them. Annette was pulled down from her mount and, after eating and being oh so graciously allowed to relieve herself with the female soldier in the group as her guard, they pulled her arms behind her again. And, as if adding insult to injury—or injured pride, as it were—they made sure she was bound to a stake, as if they expected her to run away in the night if she wasn’t. 

Which was...probably smart, because if she could have run, she might have. But she’d rather do it some distance from the village, to keep them safe from retaliation. They weren’t far enough for that, yet. 

It wasn’t comfortable, to say the least, but she hadn’t expected comfort. She’d injured at least three of these soldiers with her magic in their initial confrontation and they were more than willing to hold a grudge. Suspecting her of being a bladesinger was a point that didn’t withstand that grudge. They wouldn’t outright harm her, but they’d do nothing to ensure her comfort. That much was certain. 

She tried not to make it any worse on herself. If she didn’t act outwardly hostile towards them, there was the slightest chance they’d loosen up a little on their journey. If Annette got the chance, any chance, to escape? She would take it in a heartbeat. She wasn’t a bladesinger, after all, and if they revealed that she’d resisted anyway despite the misunderstanding, she wondered if she’d be the next example of noble blood. 

Or, worse, if they revealed that she was decently skilled with magic, would she be forcibly drafted to serve? 

Annette wanted nothing less than to serve the Adrestian Empire, or Emperor Edelgard. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was her home, had always been her home, and she loved it as it was. She’d never raise a hand against citizens of her homeland, not for the sake of their invaders. Her uncle had bowed to the enemy, as a way to protect the citizens of their lands, but she just knew, somewhere out there, her estranged father was still fighting. 

He might as well have been married to the royal family and his duty rather than her mother, but at least a love for their country was something she could say they had in common. 

Sleep came, slowly and not at all restful, but she didn't exactly have the luxury of asking for much. She didn't know how long she'd slept when a boot in her side drew her from her slumber in an instant, a pained hiss escaping through her teeth. And she received a gruff, "Wake up, Miss Dominic," from a sneering soldier. 

Annette scowled and pushed herself into as much of a sitting position as she could manage, her side still stinging. She heard the soldier snickering to another, and ignored the side glances at her. 

_Calm, Annie, stay calm and maybe they'll drop their guard eventually._

It was hard enough to keep her loyalty to the kingdom to herself and dance around the accusations of being a bladesinger. Harder, still, now that they knew she was a mage and questioned why she hadn't joined the war efforts. If she snapped at them for roughing her up on the road, she'd probably lose the small freedoms that her status and suspected abilities had granted. 

She really wanted to light their tents on fire and watch them burn, and release all their horses into the wild so they'd have to catch them or go on foot, but either option was out of her capabilities right now. And she still wasn't comfortable with only half a day's ride between here and the village that had harbored her. Maybe tomorrow, she could try something? Or the day after? But Annette had no way of knowing how far the journey was, or if they were going to rendezvous with an outer imperial camp of some sort or not. 

She bit her lip, and allowed the day to proceed much as the previous day had gone. They made better headway, passing a few crossroads she recognized and even going through a town where she was positive a former maid from her family's estate lived. 

"You should all be honored," the captain had said to the local mayor as some of his men went to acquire supplies, "that the heir of your own Baron Dominic has been... _scouted_ for her abilities." 

The mayor looked unconvinced, and she saw his eyes trail to the poorly hidden cuffs at her wrist. She gave a short shake of her head, and he turned away and had played the part. 

That town had been left behind hours ago, and with little else of note save one or two encounters on the road with locals tending to livestock or acquiring firewood, night fell once more. Annette was prepared for the same treatment and the same arrangement as the previous night on the road, but this time she was weary enough to fall asleep easily. It wasn't comfortable, but she was thankful that she was roused naturally before they could kick her awake again. 

Another day of the same followed, though her captors treated her slightly less roughly throughout. They were at least fairly convinced that she would not fight back, but they were still too wary for Annette to try anything. Their small group had travelled a fair distance, and from snippets of overheard conversations Annette figured that they were about halfway to the nearest camp. 

If she didn't do something to try and escape before she reached that camp and was either tested or given more guards to continue the journey, Annette wasn't sure she'd get another chance. 

If she failed, she wouldn't get another chance regardless, and her life would be forfeit when they realized that she wasn't a bladesinger. 

_Tomorrow_ , she decided as another camp was made, their third night on the road. _I'll try for a chance tomorrow._

Sleep didn't come as easily as the previous night, but it still came. 

Shouting, a choked scream, and scrambling all around her pulled her prematurely from her slumber. Annette was groggy and disoriented, but she rolled up as quickly as she could, pulling herself into a sitting position, to try and assess the situation. 

_Bandits_. 

The small group of imperial soldiers was twelve strong but at least one had crashed to the ground and she didn't see him moving. There was a feathered arrow protruding from his chest, and she didn't figure he'd be getting back up. Annette blinked the sleep from her eyes, or tried to, and cursed. 

She wasn't sure she could free herself from her binds in the commotion, or if she should try. With any luck, bandits would see her bound and suspect she was a noble of some sort and see it as a chance to get a ransom, but there was no telling. The war had done a number on people everywhere and banditry was a rising problem in difficult times, and their motives always changed. Were these bandits here for violence or for money? 

Annette didn't want to risk it. 

The stake was wooden, hastily carved from a dead branch that one of the men had found a little further in the woods. It was dry, and while Annette's skill with fire spells was tenuous at best, she had to try. She only thanked the goddess that they’d bound her with her hands to the front of her body this time instead of behind as she wrapped both hands around the wooden stake, one above where her chain was hooked and one below, and prayed before she reached for the power roiling within. _Burn_ , she willed it, _burn clean through._

She closed her eyes and felt it, heat building in her palms and in her fingers, spreading to the wood beneath her touch. It flared then, searing hot against her hands, and Annette bit back a yelp as another man screamed somewhere behind her. 

Her hands would be burned from this. She was resistant to her magic, but not immune to it. So the flames that burst to life between her fingers would leave their marks, but she scowled, grit her teeth, and pushed the spell. She was altering a basic fire spell to meet her needs, which was an arduous process at best, and it was taking a great deal more than she'd expected. But letting a full-scale fire spell loose here would have been asking for the imperials around her to notice, and would undoubtedly draw attention to her from the bandits as well. 

Burns were the least of her worries. 

“Hey, what are you doing?!” a voice shouted, near and to the right, and Annette yelped and pulled her hands back on instinct. A large hand swiped the air in front of her, but thanks to the way the wooden stake crumbled to ash under her blistering hands, she tumbled back and avoided the grab. It was the captain, and she yelped when he spun back around with a glare and blade gleaming in hand. 

She wasn’t sure whether he was going to actually try to kill her or not, but she didn’t want to take that risk. 

Annette scrambled to her feet, wincing at the pressure she had to put on her hands, and staggered backwards, away from the imperial in front of her, and tried to hurriedly take stock of the situation. 

_Chaos_. That was really the only way to describe it. But at the captain’s shouting, some of the soldiers she’d been travelling with were starting to regroup. She didn’t want to be here when they fully gathered their wits about them, so she spun on her heel before the captain could charge her again and bolted into the woods beyond. 

“ _Catch her! The bladesinger is getting away_!” 

_Don’t call me that_! She thought to herself, stumbling on a raised root. Annette barely managed to keep her footing and a few staggering steps served to steady her. And she sprinted, ignoring the aches of riding all day, of sleeping on the hard ground, of any number of little grievances that had been afflicted on her over the last few days. She didn’t know if she could even get away, but she had to make the attempt. The ruckus was falling further behind her as shouts to reclaim her fell victim to the din of battle, and she forced her attention ahead. 

It was becoming progressively harder to see where she was going. She had run deeper into the woods and the light from the scattered campfire was nearly gone, now. The moon and stars only did so much beneath the canopy of the trees, and Annette stumbled time and time again but forced herself to keep going. 

She ran until she couldn’t hear much else over the sound of her own pulse in her ears and her breaths tore raggedly from her throat. She stumbled and slowed for air, drawing an almost painful breath and nearly choking on it. Annette resolved to pause only long enough to catch her breath, then she would have to press onward. She wasn’t sure how far would be far enough, how she would remove her cuffs, or even how she would treat her burns, but none of that would matter if she didn’t put enough distance between herself and the imperials. 

It was then that she heard it, in a lull between her own ragged breaths. There was rustling in the underbrush, and the sounds were much nearer than she cared for. 

_Already?!_

Annette took one more steadying breath and then turned to flee further, but the rustling of leaves was even closer. She turned her head toward the sound and yelped as a man loped toward her in the moonlight, teeth glinting in a lopsided grin. 

“So _you’re_ the bladesinger they was yellin’ about?” 

“ _No_!” she snapped instinctively, taking a hasty step back and trying to raise her hands. The chain between them pulled taut and caught her off guard when it jerked her motion to a halt, and Annette hissed in pain. Her wrists were chafed, and she wondered if her burns might have covered more than just her hands. There wasn’t time to dwell on that, though when she had to scramble away from the axe swinging at her. “Hey!” 

“Then if ya ain’t a bladesinger, there’s no reason not to kill ya!” 

This was a second man, slimmer and faster than his friend with the axe, and in her rush to avoid him, Annette stepped on the hem of her riding cloak. As she tumbled, she cursed and threw both hands straight out in front of her, this time avoiding pulling her shackles too far apart, and willed the breeze to pick up. 

She caught him midair with a wind spell, thought not at full power, and his battlecry turned into a choked scream. She hardly heard it as she hit the ground herself and her breath rushed out. She wheezed out a curse and tried to push herself up on her elbows, pushing herself backwards with her legs, and looked up when she heard a furious shout. 

More than one bandit was approaching her now, though she couldn’t quite make them out. She thought there were two, and if she counted the man she’d hit with a spell it made three total. There was no telling if more had followed. 

“You witch!” the brutish man she’d seen first hefted his axe. 

Another panicked noise passed her lips, but Annette tried to get her wits about her enough to cast another spell. Before she could do anything, however, she heard running footsteps, muffled against the soft ground, and the sound of tearing clothes that she was so sure were hers—and then a crushing weight on her right side, and the wet warmth of fresh blood. 

She screamed. 

And then, after a moment, realized that she was in no additional pain. She moved, and could feel all her extremities, and started to try and get out from under the weight, eyes searching wildly for whoever had killed the bandit as she managed to get his weight off of her. Another scream sounded, not her own, and the solid thump of a falling body. Annette looked around wildly, squinting in the moonlight, and finally spotted him as he turned towards her, blade gleaming in the light. And then she saw another shape behind him, and reacted on instinct. 

“Watch out!” 

Control over wind was her forte, but it was hard when she didn’t have full range of motion. Annette tried anyway, using a mild gust to stagger the swordsman that had killed the two bandits aside before following it with a full power cutting gale. The spell tore through the approaching man as the mysterious swordsman rolled back to his feet. She’d realized that the approaching man was likely the one she’d already hit earlier but pushed the thought aside as the rest of her gale howled through the trees behind him. 

He toppled to the ground somewhere after a gurgling breath that didn’t even have the strength to become a scream, and she swallowed and tried to scramble up again. 

She still didn’t know whether it was just another bandit that didn’t care who he killed, or if it was one of the Adrestian Empire’s soldiers that had been traveling with her, but she couldn’t watch while the swordsman that had killed her assailants was ambushed in the dark. Suddenly, after everything she’d gone through, she lamented her inability to attend the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach. Annette had been certain that’s where she would find her father, and she would have had practical experience with her magic in combat rather than just booksmarts. As it was, guilt swelled in her throat at the life she had almost certainly taken in this man’s defense, but she pushed it back. She’d wanted to join the kingdom army, after all, and if she couldn’t stomach this then she’d never be able to stomach the war. 

Annette wondered at that decision to protect him when, in a movement so quick she almost couldn’t follow it, his blade was pointed at her throat. He’d stepped forward into a patch of dim light, and she noted that he didn’t _look_ like a bandit. Pale skin, high cheekbones, and fierce eyes framed by a few loose strands of dark hair— _handsome_ , her mind unhelpfully supplied—and an unreadable expression on his face. The next thing she noted was that he wasn’t wearing the Empire’s colors, so hope fluttered to life deep in her breast. Maybe, just maybe, this man could help her. But the sword he pointed at her could put a damper on questions of that nature. 

“Who are you?” his voice held an edge, sharp and deadly, and Annette swallowed. 

“Can you...please help me remove these?” she said carefully and slowly, so as to appear as innocuous as possible, indicated the shackles on her wrists. 

She couldn’t see much of him, but she could still see him scowl. “Maybe I’ll try, if you tell me who you are and what you’re doing here. Did he say you were a bladesinger?” 

His sword was close enough she swore she smelled the metallic scent of blood on it. There was some sort of disdain in his voice, in the way he bit off the word _bladesinger_ like he wanted it to be a shorter word, to end as soon as possible. It was different from the reverence most bladesingers would hear but it didn’t matter to her, since she wasn’t one of them. 

She swallowed and finally answered, “Fine, sir. My name is Annette Fantine Dominic.” 

She felt like the air grew a bit heavier, but the sword stayed steady. “Dominic? Of the Dukedom?” His tone was colder, and she gasped when she felt him press the flat of his blade against the side of her neck. “Why should I help you?” 

Annette felt like crying as the adrenaline finally started to wear down, and she just sagged where she sat with a sigh. She took a deep breath and her first words were more to herself than to him. 

“Fine. You know what? Fine,” she looked up at him, trying to match his expression with a fierce scowl of her own. His eyes narrowed. “My uncle wouldn’t let me leave to join the kingdom army and wouldn’t even let me help protect Dominic lands. He ceded to Cornelia and sent me away, to Rahl, where I’ve lived for nearly a year. Imperial soldiers came through and had the crazy idea that I’m a bladesinger and are trying to force me to join the empire’s army, and threatened the villagers after I tried defending myself. We’ve been riding for two and a half days and I decided I would try to escape and go join the kingdom army on my own, even though I’m _not_ actually a bladesinger, but before I had my escape plan we were attacked by these bandits, and I ran.” 

He held his blade as steady as ever, and asked, “You wanted to join the kingdom army?” 

“Of course! Faerghus is my home!” 

“Quick, you fools! The Dominic brat came this way! Fan out and find her, or there’ll be hell to pay!” a voice, some distance away but not far enough for her taste, sounded loud in the woods. “We can’t let the bladesinger get away!” 

“Put your hands on the ground in front of you,” the man right in front of her snapped, and she jerked her head up to look at him, a question rising to her lips. Before she could ask, he hissed at her, “Just do it if you want a chance to survive!” 

Annette held his gaze for a moment, but turned away and did as he demanded. She wasn’t sure what was going through his head, but a chance at survival sounded a lot better than being dragged back to the empire where she’d only serve as another corpse left behind as a single link in a long chain of examples. 

And then, in one swift movement, he struck. 

The sound of clashing metal wasn’t as loud as she’d expected, and it sparked only for an instant before the chains between her hands fell loose. She glanced up at him in shock and tried to figure out what had just happened. It could’ve been a bladesong that made his sword so exceptionally sharp, but he’d sounded like he held no little amount of disdain for the practice. She knew that the legendary smith Zoltan’s blades were rumored to have the sharpest edges even years after his death, due to the bladesong of Zoltan himself as he folded and forged his weapons, so it could be that he possessed one of those. 

She didn’t have much time to think about it, though. The man grabbed her roughly by the arm and heaved her to her feet. 

“You have more explaining to do later,” he said gruffly, but pulled her along as he darted back into the woods, away from the sounds of her former guards crashing through the trees and underbrush. Annette found her footing stumblingly and followed as quickly as she could. She figured he was slowing his own pace a bit for her after seeing how fast he could move earlier, in battle, and she was thankful for it. 

He finally released her arm after a while, probably when he was convinced she wouldn’t bolt away from him. It was a valid concern, after all, since she really had considered running. There was just something about his tone of voice when she’d expressed interest in joining the kingdom army that stopped her and kept her following a few paces behind him. It was something a little shocked, she thought, but with a softer edge than his biting words before. Something almost a tad hopeful, maybe? 

If he was a kingdom loyalist, then she had landed herself in the right hands. And even if it wasn’t true, the suspicion that she could be a bladesinger might be just enough to get him to take her to the army, if her skills as a mage weren’t up to snuff. 

She didn’t know how long she followed him, but they started down a steep bluff and then, suddenly, the dark shape in front of her was gone. 

“Wait, where—” she began, stumbling to a halt almost right where he’d been standing, and then a hand grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her down. 

“We can wait here,” it was the swordsman’s voice, and the scream that had built in her throat escaped as a wheezing gasp against his other hand. “This ridge has a lot of places where we can lay low. Understand?” 

He wasn’t going to release her until she indicated that she did, so Annette nodded and made a sound of assent in her throat. The man released her then, and stepped back. In the dark, Annette couldn’t make out much, but she did see that he reclaimed his sword and leaned against the earthen wall of the almost-cave they had taken refuge in. She slowly moved to settle herself, listening for any outside sounds. 

She wished she could heal _herself_ , but healing oneself was always the trickiest part of faith magic, and she wasn’t great at it, so she just carefully arranged her hands in her lap as she sank down to sit, feeling the stretch and sting of her burned palms with each movement. Annette grimaced and tried to peer down at the damage, but there was no real way to see the extent of it before the sun came up. She resolved to wait, then, and see what she could do. 

But for now, she would sit in silence with the swordsman who had kind of, sort of, rescued her. He didn’t seem to be a man of very many words, and was definitely rough around the edges, but he hadn’t immediately killed her so far. That counted for something, though maybe not something big. She let her eyes wander, skimming the man’s form as he peered out into the darkness beyond this small shelter. Annette didn’t think he was the type that would be able to relax. Instead, he’d probably keep a watch until he was fairly confident they’d not been followed, and she was perfectly content to let him. 

While they sat in silence, she decided to try and guess at what time of night or morning it might be. Based on the position of the moon in the sky and the constellations, she might be able to figure that out. And she didn’t want to outright ask him, since it seemed like silence was what he preferred right now. 

It was somewhere near two in the morning, she decided, at the latest. She didn’t feel like trying to sleep was a good idea, so she just settled in and started running through spell theory in her head. 

The swordsman hardly budged, but she could tell he was still awake. 

Finally, when Annette was sure she would soon go insane, the man shifted and leaned a little out of their hiding place. It was getting a little brighter, so dawn was approaching. Annette was stiff and sore from fighting and running and days of riding, but she did her best to stretch without drawing too much attention to herself. 

The man turned towards her anyway and then demanded, “Explain.” 

Annette blinked, and wracked her brain for what she was supposed to explain before she tentatively asked, “Explain….what?” 

He huffed and shifted. He spoke while looking away from her, peering through the trees for any signs of last night’s opponents. “If you’re a bladesinger and loyal to the kingdom, why didn’t you join up when the boar—when Dimitri put out the call? And if you’re a mage that strong, why didn’t you join anyway?” 

“I already told you pretty much all of that!” she said incredulously, before she sucked in a breath to control her tone. She vaguely remembered, somewhere in the rush, that he had said she’d have more to explain. She hadn’t thought of it much, since she had thought she’d covered most of it. 

“Well, explain it clearly.” 

His tone brooked no arguments, but Annette was getting a little fed up. 

“Well, why don’t _you_ give your name before demanding so much of me?” 

“Fine,” he scoffed, then offered an almost sarcastic incline of his head, finally looking at her. “Felix. Felix Hugo Fraldarius. Happy now?” 

“F-Fraldarius?” Annette’s mind stuttered to a stop, and all that echoed was that name. The name was practically _storied_. Legendary. The Fraldarius family had been the right hand of the king for generations. “As in... _the_ Fraldarius family? _Duke_ Fraldarius? _The Shield of Faerghus_?” 

“That’s… _was_...my father, yes,” his tone sounded a bit strangled. “Now will you answer my questions?” 

Annette shook herself, and Felix looked startled when she clapped her hands to her cheeks. She took one steadying breath, and then stated as calmly as she could, “You haven’t asked me anything new, yet, but I can repeat. My uncle, the Baron Dominic, refused to let me join the kingdom army when the war first broke out because he is unwed and I am the only heir, so he sent me off to a small village with some guards to live as quietly as possible, away from the fighting. I sing a lot, but they’re silly songs and nothing like a bladesong, so people have made fun of me for years because they’re too childish! But the idiot imperials that came through a few days ago just declared I was a bladesinger and threatened the villagers after I fought back, so I went with them.” 

She took another breath, then added quietly, “Once they figured out I’m not actually a bladesinger, they probably would’ve killed me, since I fought back. Or used me as another example.” 

He frowned a little, but then asked, “If you’re a capable mage, why wouldn’t he let you join? Many who are the only heirs of their family are in this war.” 

_Including you_ , Annette remembered suddenly. If she was correct, the eldest Fraldarius heir had died in the Tragedy of Duscur, the event her own father had abandoned his post and family after. 

No, after a moment Annette realized that there was no question about it. She did remember correctly. Felix’s older brother _had_ died, because even before the war had broken out, the eldest Fraldarius had been the Empire’s first in a long line of examples. 

“The Royal School of Sorcery doesn’t really have practical combat experience, and tensions were high when I was due to start at the Officer’s Academy, so Uncle kept me from it even though I had a scholarship and sponsor,” she answered honestly, tilting her head back. “He said that my booksmarts would be no match for the field.” 

“No match—” she glanced over to catch a look of disbelief, before he masked it with cool indifference. “If your booksmarts were no match for practical experience, you would have died last night. And you cast those spells with your hands bound.” 

She thought that was almost praise, and it sent a flutter through her. She swallowed the almost hysteric giggle that threatened to burst out, smiled, and shook her head. “Thank you for that.” 

After a few moments, she added tentatively, “So you believe me? That I’m not a bladesinger?” 

He didn’t answer for a moment, then Felix shrugged. “You said you’re not, so I’ll take your word for it. It doesn’t matter to me either way.” 

“It... _doesn’t_ …?” she blinked, incredulously, then looked down to the swords belted at his waist. There was no way someone so skilled with a blade could have a total disregard for bladesinging. It was almost as unheard of as a good silversong. 

He scoffed, and when she still stared blankly at him, he finally spoke. “I don’t care for bladesinging. I’d rather trust my own skill and the strength of my blade than some magic that might make it sharper, or add a poison sting to its edge.” 

“O-oh,” she looked down. “You don’t hear that very often.” 

He just grunted in response. 

Silence fell between them then. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though it only lasted a minute at best before Felix shifted again and said, “If you graduated from the School of Sorcery, you’re more than qualified as a magic user, and capable mages are always needed. Did you never try to convince him—Baron Dominic, I mean—of that?” 

She snorted. “Of course. And when that didn’t work, I decided to run away. Uncle locked me in the estate when I tried, then he sent guards with me when he ceded to Cornelia and hid me away in Rahl.” 

“He...he _locked you in_?” he blinked, then quickly wiped his surprise off his face. After another moment he started to speak slowly, as if being careful with his words, “You’re not locked in now. You’re not saddled with the guards. So...what are you going to do?” 

Annette’s heart skipped a beat. 

_Is he...inviting me to join the kingdom army?_

She swallowed. “I have to keep running and keep out of the sight of the imperials, to start with,” she answered slowly, looking down at her hands. Now that light was starting to trickle through the woods she could see more of the damage she’d done to herself, and winced. “Then…” 

“The army could always use another good mage. We have some bishops and others skilled with magic, but not enough. Mercedes is great, but with her personality she’s more suited to healing—” 

“Mercie?!” Annette jerked her head up to look at him, eyes wide, and Felix furrowed his brow. “Mercedes, as in Mercedes von Martritz? She’s with the army?!” 

“You know her?” 

“We went to the School of Sorcery together! She’s my best friend!” Annette laughed then, one that was truly heartfelt. Then she turned her attention on him, on _Felix Fraldarius_ , again. Her decision was made for her, whether he was truly offering or not. “Can you take me there? To the army, I mean? To see Mercie and to join and to fight? I’ll do anything! Uh, Lord Fraldarius, sir?” 

His face twisted and she couldn’t read it, but he glanced back out at the woods to avoid meeting her gaze. “Just Felix.” 

“Just…? Oh! Then, will you take me with you, Felix? Please, please, _please_ take me with you!” 

“Let’s try to find someone who can help with your wrists and hands fist,” he said instead of directly answering, but it was more than enough for her. Annette felt her face splitting into a grin, and if she wasn’t so far away and was more familiar with him, she would have thrown her arms around him for a hug. Instead, she agreed enthusiastically, and then started to try and ask Felix questions about himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I get it! I get it, okay? Now you know why there’s no way I can be a bladesinger, right? Because they’re too silly and childish! It’s no wonder you’d laugh at them, the same way everyone else does! Y-you’re evil, Felix!” 
> 
> “Laugh—I wasn’t laughing at them,” she heard, but she didn’t believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And welcome back to Silversong, chapter 2, still for the #felannieminibang2020 haha.
> 
> Once again, shout-out to the amazing @soultyghost who did the banner from last chapter, and who will have something else that shows up a little later!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Over the course of the next day, they managed to find a small farm. They bargained with the farmer’s wife, a brunette with a grey streak in her hair and six children between the ages of six and sixteen to help around the farm, for the right to sleep in the barn for the night. Felix may have told her they were both members of the kingdom army after learning that the farmer himself was off and had joined up as infantry, and he’d further claimed that Annette had just been rescued from the enemy. Annette was, at first, angry with him for lying before she realized that Felix was, undoubtedly, an officer and this was basically his way of saying he’d accepted her into the army. And when considering it that way, the rest was true, too.

The woman offered to let them use any of the farming tools they had laying around, and provided some salve for Annette’s burned hands. Felix and the eldest son, a boy about 14, managed to find some tools and pry the cuffs off, and she wanted to cry a little. She did hug Felix, this time, and he was caught completely off guard by the action. After a long pause, where the two eldest daughters of the home giggled at him behind their hands, he finally patted her awkwardly on the back.

“Thank you, Felix!” her words were muffled against his chest, and she thought she might actually cry. It would make a great impression, surely. 

“Yeah, you’re, uh, welcome,” he managed, and the eldest son snorted a little as he put the tools back where they belonged. One of his sisters shushed him, and Felix shifted anxiously in her hold. “We should look at your wrists now. Are they injured, too?”

She released him after that, and held out her wrists for his inspection. “A bit of chafing, I think, but the burns were the worst of my injuries.”

He glanced over them, and took one of Annette’s hands in a way far more gentle than she’d expected. He carefully turned it over in his hand, prodding gentle at the chafed areas, and shook his head a little. “We should treat these, too.”

“It’s really nothing major—”

“Better safe than sorry,” he cut across, then prodded at a spot that made a sharp pain race through her arm, and Annette’s breath rushed out in a hiss as she unconsciously tried to pull her arm back. “See? It’s shallow, but it’s still been cut open, here.”

She looked, and saw the faint line of a tear in the skin. “Oh.”

“We should clean the wound and treat it—”

“Horace will get you some water! Mel, let’s go get some medical supplies for them!” the eldest daughter interrupted, while her sister hid another giggle behind her hand. “Please, just take it easy! We’ll be right back!”

Annette blinked, and then looked up to meet Felix’s nonplussed gaze. And then he blinked, his jaw returned to the same stern expression he had worn for most of the day. She’d started to form her opinion of him as a pretty taciturn fellow, and he was only solidifying that opinion with actions like this. But he could be pretty expressive, too. She wondered if Felix was the type of person you learned more about by observing than through conversation.

She let the thought fade as the family brought the promised items, and the evening wore on. They settled down to sleep for the night and were able to sleep through with no difficulties or interruptions. When they rose in the morning and had prepared to leave, Felix pressed several coins into the woman’s hands, despite her protests. He didn’t say anything, but as she tried to return them, Annette shook her head and placed her hand over the woman’s. She made sure that the farmer’s fingers were more firmly curled around the gold pieces Felix had given her, even though her bandaged hands stung a little at the contact. She smiled through the traces of pain and squeezed, gently.

“Medical supplies are expensive, especially now,” she said, glancing over at Felix as he shouldered his bag. They’d looped around the previous day to pick it up from where he’d stowed it upon hearing commotion, and she was glad for it. “Take it, and that way if you need more, you can buy it.”

“I really couldn’t—”

“Take it,” Felix said shortly, though not unkind. 

“See?” Annette interjected in a more peaceful tone. “It’s really fine. We appreciate everything that you and your family have done for us! Take care, okay?”

“Thank you,” she finally said, and bowed her head. “Please take care on your journey, my lord, my lady.”

Annette blinked, startled. They’d only given their first names, after all, and they hadn’t been pressed for more. Felix just raised his hand in acknowledgement, and Annette gave a short incline of her head. “Thank you!” she offered, smiling, then turned to follow Felix. 

The next two days passed fairly uneventfully, and while they didn’t exactly have riveting conversation, Annette learned that Felix didn’t mind if she filled the silence with chatter and humming. They’d gone through a small town, acquired a few more supplies and a pack for Annette, and moved on. She knew what general direction they were heading in though not exactly where, but Felix seemed to have a plan. She decided to trust it, for now, and filled their travel with chatter and tunes.

As they made camp that night, Felix left to gather more firewood and potentially find a rabbit or other animal for dinner. She stayed behind and worked on the fire itself, coaxing it to life with a short, sustained fire spell. The heat was uncomfortable so close to her recently burned flesh, but a little discomfort was a small price to pay.

And then she started singing, under her breath. She hadn’t had the chance to revisit her campfire song in a long time. Or, rather, she’d refused to sing at all around those damn imperials, though the campfire song had threatened to break out multiple times. She hadn’t wanted to give them the satisfaction of hearing her sing, since they were so convinced she was a bladesinger. But now she wasn’t with them and she could sing it without them looming over her, and the knowledge made her voice stronger.

“ _ Popping with joy in leaps and bounds _

_ Filling the air with happy sounds! _

_ Dancing flame in the night, crackling with delight _

_ Oh! But don’t look into the flame so bright _

_ Unless you want to lose your sight! _ ”

She giggled and spun next to the fire, lighter and freer than she’d been in a while. She was away from the imperials, she was on her way to join the kingdom army, and she was able to sing freely again, without worrying about the listening ears accusing her of being a bladesinger.

“I guess you  _ want _ to lose your sight?”

The fire in front of her went strangely out of focus as she realized she might have been staring into it, just a little. At the voice, however, she let out a startled scream and stumbled as she tried to spin around to face him. But her ankle turned at the wrong moment, and she felt her balance failing her as she pitched in the direction of the crackling flames she’d happily been singing about moments before.

“Annette!” 

There was a sound, a scattering of kindling hitting the soft ground around them, and a sharp tug on her arm. Annette yelped and found herself nose-to-chest with Felix, who was saying something to her that she couldn’t quite comprehend.

“Annette, are you okay?”

She blinked, felt her face starting to burn furiously, then pushed back as the words registered. “No! I mean yes, I’m fine! Don’t sneak up on me like that, Felix, you big meanie!” 

Annette punctuated her new name for him with a halfhearted hit against his chest, and winced at the pain in her hand. The burns were healing quite nicely but it was still tender, and Felix caught her wrist to look at her hand almost immediately.

“Which one is it? Are you fine or not?” he asked, sending a sharp glance to her before he turned her hand over in his and looked at it. She wasn’t wearing bandages anymore, to let the wounds breathe, and there was no visible damage from hitting him. “And I wasn’t sneaking. You just weren’t paying attention.”

She opened her mouth but then thought better of it, opting instead to cross her arms. “I’m fine! I’m more than fine! I’m great!”

“Listening to all those happy sounds?” he asked, a lilt of amusement in his usually stern tone, and Annette stiffened. From the corner of her eye, she saw that he had widely gestured to the fire itself, and she recalled how exuberantly she’d been singing the campfire song. Her face burned even more fiercely and she stamped her foot.

“I get it! I get it, okay? Now you know why there’s no way I can be a bladesinger, right? Because they’re too silly and childish! It’s no wonder you’d laugh at them, the same way everyone else does! Y-you’re evil, Felix!”

“Laugh—I wasn’t laughing at them,” she heard, but she didn’t believe it. He was a pretty straightlaced kind of man, from what she’d experienced in the last three days, so it was easy to tell when he was amused. And the tone of voice he’d used had definitely been one of amusement. If Felix hadn’t been laughing at her and her silly songs, why would he have sounded that way? 

“Hmph,” she harrumphed instead, striding away to start throwing together some kind of stew. 

He didn’t say anything else, and Annette rested her case. If he didn’t have a stronger rebuttal than that, it meant he couldn’t defend himself. He  _ had _ been laughing at her songs, and he was added to a long list of the people who would tease her and make fun of her for them. She resolved, then, to try not to give him the satisfaction of laughing at her again. She wondered, idly, how long that resolve would last, though. 

Travel was rough when they weren’t on horseback and were actively trying to avoid notice. A distance that Felix noted would’ve only taken a day on horseback on the roads ended up being nearly three, traipsing through the woods as they were. 

“We’re about two days from the last outpost in this area,” he noted, scanning his map as he tried his best to shield it from the rain. “It’s not nightfall yet, but we should find shelter and settle for the night. This storm won’t pass quickly.”

Annette nodded. “It’ll probably last most of the night,” she added softly. The air was thick and heavy with the pressure of the clouds overhead, and Felix didn’t question the statement. “Do you think there’s good cover around here? Or a farm we might be able to take shelter at?”

“There’s a river nearby, so it’s possible someone lives close,” he took another look at his map before folding it up and tucking it back into the leather pouch he kept it in, “but the nearest village would take about four hours to reach, and it would be well past nightfall by then. We should just look for natural cover of some sort, and if we happen across a house then all the better.”

Annette peered up at the murky clouds and sighed. She’d like to sleep under a roof, but she knew better than to question it. Felix clearly had more experience being on the road than she did, and it was probably best to try and stay out of notice as much as possible. They didn’t have any way of knowing if the Dukedom was looking for her or not, and if they were it would be questionable if she was seen traveling towards the kingdom army’s last known outposts.

She wondered if she could share whatever tent Mercie slept in, when they joined up with the army.

“Let’s go, then,” she said instead, pulling the hood of her traveling cloak more firmly over her hair and face as she peered out through the trees. “We won’t find anything standing here.”

He made a sound of assent in his throat and pushed out of their meager cover ahead of her, hood pulled low over his face. Annette followed without a word, silently bemoaning the fact that she couldn’t be nice and dry and warm somewhere, instead of caught in a chilly rain in southern Faerghus. But she could be in some imperial camp by now, or dead, or with bandits, or alone, and even if he was stoic and snarky, Annette really did prefer traveling with Felix to any of those. Even  _ if _ he was another one of those that made fun of her songs.

“Watch your step,” his voice cut into her thoughts, and she corrected herself just in time to avoid the exposed roots of the tree. “The river is nearby. I want to get a look at it.”

She just made a sound to acknowledge him rather than trying to form words. With everything being wet from the day’s rain, the ground was spongy and gave underfoot. She was clumsy on her best days, so Annette was trying to be especially careful not to trip up here. Felix could laugh at her songs because she was used to that, but she didn’t want him to claim she was useless if she ended up getting a sprain somehow because she tripped over a root, or something else equally as embarrassing. 

He called occasional warnings to her over his shoulder, and the sound of water rushing and pouring all around them only grew louder. It got to a point where she wasn’t sure whether it was raining harder or whether she was just hyper focused on the sound. Felix didn’t slow his pace, so Annette assumed— _ hoped _ , even—that the conditions of the ground they walked on were roughly the same.

It was hard to keep an eye out for cover, but she didn’t see anything, and Felix apparently didn’t either. They trekked onward, she supposed towards the river he wanted to get a look at, and Annette was certain the damp chill would settle into her bones.

“ _ Shit _ .”

His curse made her start, and she glanced up. “What is— _ oh _ .”

She’d admittedly started drowning out a lot of the watery background noises, and apparently one of them was the sound the river made as it thundered downstream, swollen against its banks. 

“We need across,” Felix said by way of explanation, “but with this much rain, we wouldn’t be able to cross anywhere but a main bridge for at least the next few days. We’ll have to head northeast, towards the next main road.”

“Won’t that be further into Dukedom territory?” she asked, thinking back to his map. 

He glanced at her, a furrow in his brow and a scowl on his features. It wasn’t directed at her, she could tell, but she wondered how many times he’d given the wrong impression just because he didn’t know how to regulate his expressions. “Yeah, but to go around the other way will take at least four days longer to reach the last camp.”

He didn’t need to say the last camp he was at was not necessarily where the army still was. Felix had been a bit vague on details, but he was convinced that the army had continued its slow crawl towards Fhirdiad. When he’d been separated, to pull their imperial tail’s attention and take them out, they’d apparently been on their way to take back Arianrhod. Felix had heard news that Arianrhod had been taken back, shortly before he’d found Annette. That was all he’d really shared with her, but it was enough. At their current pace, he’d estimated they’d reach the last outpost in two days, but if they backtracked for the arguably safer route, it would be four.

If they wanted to be part of retaking Fhirdiad, or to even have a chance to be there, it was vital that they save as much time as they could.

“Then northeast it is,” she said simply with a glance back at the rushing river. “But first, perhaps, shelter? Before it gets too dark to see and travel in this rain?”

Felix grunted, and turned his back on the river.

Thankfully, shelter wasn’t hard to find. It wasn’t completely dry, but the rocky outcropping they stumbled upon was enough for a fire underneath, to keep them mostly dry and protected from the elements, and was on slightly higher ground. Felix stepped out to find more kindling than the few twigs that had been nearby, though not without leaving his swords behind and out of the rain for mobility’s sake. He had a wicked looking dagger and a hunting knife, so she was sure he’d be fine. As he disappeared back into the rain, Annette set to work trying to coax the damp wood from their shelter to light. 

The heat from her fire spell was uncomfortable on her hands but much less so than previous nights, and her burns were healing nicely even without magic. She might end up with some light scarring on her hands, which would be unfortunate, but Annette could live with that. 

The downpour continued, first just a hum in the background and then a soothing melody, and she started humming the campfire song as a spark lit. The campfire song turned into her rain song, and after a while she was singing softly under her breath. And just as she sang about thunder, a thunderclap sounded overhead, echoing and making the air shudder. She shivered, her voice faltered for just a moment, then she took a steadying breath and forged onwards.

Her voice waxed stronger as the flame crackled to life before her, and soon she was singing as she normally would, arranging other damp sticks and wood around the fire to start drying as she carefully did the same with her traveling cloak. There wasn’t much she could do about the rest, so she just warmed her hands over the small fire while her melody weaved in and out of the pitter-patter of the falling rain.

It was getting darker, and she peered out occasionally to see if Felix was in sight. She saw him moving in the distance a time or two, a few hundred yards away, and went back to warming her hands.

Annette closed her eyes and sang to herself while swaying with the tune and, once her hands were sufficiently dry and warmed, she ran her fingers gently through her damp, tangled locks, and transitioned gradually from her rain song into one of her old favorites. It was a little silly, and had been brought to life when she was just a little hungry in her adolescence, but it was still dear to her. It had made her mother smile, too.

“Today’s dinner is steak and then a cake that’s yummy yum. Now it’s time to fill my tummy tummy tum! Oh, this mountain of sweets, and treats that I long to eats,” she laughed to herself, picturing a gorgeous three-tiered cake that they’d had at the academy’s graduation ceremony. “Oh, stacks of steaks and cakes and crumbs and yums!”

She heard the squelching sound of a step only a split second before the observation, “You’re singing, again.”

She yelped and scooted back, away from the fire, then pouted. “You weren’t  _ listening _ , were you, Felix?!”

He dumped several more pieces of wood on the ground next to the fire and started to remove his own rain-soaked cloak before answering, “I heard just enough to think you might be hungry.”

Annette gaped at him, incredulous, as he placed his cloak near the fire to dry.

“It’s no steak, but I have some jerky, if you want some.”

“Ugh, you’re  _ evil _ , Felix!” she crossed her arms and leaned back against the rock at the back of their little shelter and turned her head away from him.

“Evil?”

“You’re making fun of my songs again,” she answered tartly. And then, more as an afterthought, she mumbled, “and I’d rather have a slice of cake than anything, now.”

“I’m not making fun of them,” he sounded a little perplexed. “If we had a choice, you could have all the cake you wanted. I’d go for the stacks of steaks, instead.”

“How can you pass up a perfectly good cake?”

She turned back to him, and he shrugged. “Not my thing. Not really a sweets person.”

Annette couldn’t help but let her arms drop, staring at him incredulously. She knew he had the dark and mysterious thing going for him, but Felix didn’t like  _ cake _ , of all things. There had to be a limit.

“You can't be serious.  _ Everyone _ likes cake," she blurted, before she remembered she was supposed to be mad at him and scrambled to add, "And besides, you don't get to make fun of my songs and listen if you don't even appreciate what they're _ about _ !"

"I appreciate steaks," he said flatly, as he finished tugging his cloak a bit further from the fire and glanced back up at her with a single brow arched. "And I'm really not making fun of them."

"Cakes are half of what my crumbs and yums song is about!" She pointed out, her tone a tad more shrill, perhaps defensive, than intended. "Anyway, how are you  _ not _ making fun of them? You've laughed, and told me you thought I was hungry, and then compared steaks and cakes to  _ jerky _ ."

"Annette,  _ what _ ?" This time Felix sounded completely flabbergasted. His expression was either frustrated or confused, maybe both. Frustration was a pretty common expression for him, though, so maybe her mind went there by default. "We haven't eaten for hours and we've been walking, and you were singing about food. Of course I was going to think you're hungry!"

"Then what about the jerky?"

He rummaged in his pack for a moment before pulling out a bundle, then he reached across the fire to hand her something from it.

Jerky.

"I offered jerky because it's what I have," he said stiffly, then took a piece for himself and leaned back, further from where the rain was starting to blow a little inward at them. 

“Oh.” 

Annette glanced at the piece he’d handed her, and frowned a little. She didn’t believe for a second that he wasn’t making fun of her songs, but the bit about offering her jerky as another way to mock her might have been an overreaction on her part. She could at least admit as much to herself, if she couldn’t admit it out loud.

He was still evil, though.

She nibbled on the jerky, chewed, swallowed, and murmured, “Thank you,” before she took another bite. It was soft, so soft that were it anyone else she would’ve assumed it would be lost between the crackling fire and the sound of rain, but she heard Felix grunt in acknowledgement. He was used to paying attention, and he had admittedly some of the keenest senses she thought she’d ever encountered.

Annette allowed herself to sing a bit more, over the next few days. They would be delayed in crossing the river until they came to a bridge or until the water stopped crushing against the swollen banks, just as Felix had predicted. The rain had persisted for a while, and the woodland they traversed was muddy and damp. The ground became spongy underfoot, and they had to watch their step more carefully.

She found it easier to focus when she hummed her hiking song, or sang it, hopping over some brush or bramble in time with the beat. And Felix, for his part, rarely commented on it. On some level, she didn’t blame him for that, since she’d called him evil and been rather ungrateful about the offer of jerky. And besides, if it was just him, he wouldn’t care that she was singing even though she wasn’t a bladesinger.

Now that she was older, she had some choice words for the people that had told her she shouldn’t sing outside of chapel services if it wasn’t a bladesong.

“ _ The leaves are crushed underfoot _

_ Beneath the great big, heavy boots. _

_ One step more, across the forest floor, _

_ One and two and three and four! _

_ Hike, hike between the little trees _

_ Take big steps and use your knees! _ ”

Annette hopped over an exposed root almost as gracefully as she’d ever done, and laughed to herself, stepping ahead a bit more before realizing that Felix wasn’t in front of her. She paused to look around, and found him a few paces behind, moving slowly and watching...her feet?

“What are you looking at?” she asked, taking another step back as she placed her hands solidly on her hips.

“Your feet—was that  _ fencing _ footwork?”

“I-what? I don’t know,” Annette spluttered a little, then nearly toppled over when she tried to take another step back. She caught herself, and pretended not to notice that it was just a little clump of damp leaves that had nearly tripped her. “My father tried to teach me a little when I was younger, so it could be something like that, but I know more about axes.”

He hummed, then shrugged. “If you say so,” he nearly murmured, looking perplexed. “I really think that was fencing footwork.”

“Felix,” she sighed, exasperated.

“I know, I know, I’m evil. Don’t mind me,” he waved his hand and began to stride forward again, even as he huffed a short laugh.

_ Laughing at me again _ , Annette thought, but she just pouted and turned to follow. 

For a while, she couldn’t settle back into the hiking song and her rhythm. Ever since Felix had pointed out her footwork, Annette was paying extra attention to the way she moved her feet. Somehow, that made her increasingly unable to actually move carefully through the mud and underbrush as she had been before. Instead, she had stumbled and nearly fallen more than once or even twice while wondering if her steps really seemed so much like fencing footwork.

“Ugh,” she groaned after a while, shaking her head to clear it. “Stop it, Annie, don’t think about that!”

If her companion had anything to say about Annette talking to herself, he wisely chose not to comment. She couldn’t tell if he’d even heard her, not with a quick look towards him, but she wouldn’t push her luck by asking. Annette would almost prefer not knowing how much he’d picked up on, considering that she’d already come to understand Felix Hugo Fraldarius had the senses of a wild animal. He was quick, fleet footed, adaptable, and hardly anything slipped past his notice.

No, she’d just hope he hadn’t heard her talking to herself and move on. It was the perfect, ideal course of action.

Once she started thinking like that, it still took a little bit for her to fall back into the melody. When she had, however, Annette was able to keep her attention on her words, and while she still stumbled occasionally it was much better than when she was watching her feet and trying to identify the steps.

She hardly ceased singing for much of that day, and the next. Once she’d decided it didn’t matter what Felix thought, it made it a lot easier to let go and indulge herself. At camp later the following night, she tried to compose a song about roasted fish on the spot. She hummed a tune, and then sang a few snippets while she coaxed their campfire to continue crackling. Every now and then, she turned the fish they’d caught in the hopes of cooking them more evenly. These were going to be the best fish Felix had ever eaten on the road, if she had any say about it. And with that thought in mind, she allowed her attention to shift over to the surly swordsman.

Felix was engaged in his nightly routine of caring for his swords. He paused after a moment, turning one of his blades over in his hands, and narrowed his eyes at it. He rarely stalled once he started the tedious process, which may have been why Annette noticed the momentary lack of movement. She remained silent and watched as he tugged off a glove and ran a finger carefully along the edge, brow furrowed. At that point, as if noticing her eyes on him, Felix glanced up at her. He gave her a nod and returned to his task without a word. 

If he didn’t use bladesongs, like he said, maybe his swords themselves needed repairs. It would explain why he was constantly caring for them. From what Annette understood, swords without a bladesong tended to suffer more wear and tear. They didn’t have that extra dose of magic to keep them as sturdy or keen, and the steel itself weakened. Since he preferred relying on the blade’s strength and his own skill, the blades could need a smithy. They wouldn’t really be able to  _ have _ them repaired out here, and maybe not even until they rejoined the main army, though. That could be another reason for the way he furrowed his brow as he continued his work. 

She decided not to ask and focused on the fire between them once more. 

After the disaster of last night’s dinner falling  _ into _ the fire, she was kind of amazed that Felix was giving her another chance, and she was determined not to screw it up. Besides, if she did it well enough, maybe she could convince him not to tell anyone about the bladesinger suspicions the imperials had.

She had absolutely no ulterior motive in her desire to prepare the best damn campfire fish he’d ever had, none at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO a few words here: I'm planning to do 1-2 updates a week until it's finished posting, but I haven't picked specific dates. Just loosely, I'd say one chapter during the weekends and one near the middle of the week? 
> 
> Hope you guys stick with us, and that you've been enjoying the flood of felannie / netteflix content provided by our minibang :D
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then, the sound of wood snapping echoed through the trees and dark around them. Felix twisted to his feet almost immediately and reached for his sheathed sword immediately as Annette stumblingly followed suit as well as she could. The breeze picked up around them as she prepared another wind spell. 
> 
> Felix drew his sword and peered through the trees, in the direction that more rustling was coming from, and nearly growled, “Who goes there?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post yesterday but...it was A Weekend and I was stressed and forgot until very late at night. I didn't want to post late, so here we are! 
> 
> This one's shorter than the others have been because I very specifically wanted the end of this to be the end of a chapter. I hope you enjoy it all the same, especially if you're like me and adore having long chapters to read, because I know this ~4k chapter would maybe slightly disappoint me haha.
> 
> Anyway, we're off!!

It took a day longer to cross the river than they had planned, mostly because there was an imperial scouting party crossing the same bridge when they arrived, and they had to distance themselves. Felix was extra cautious approaching after that, and Annette almost wished they’d gone the long way around instead. 

When they  _ did _ cross the river themselves, they still did not follow the main roads. That scouting party couldn’t be too far ahead, after all, and neither of them were comfortable with taking unnecessary risks. Annette because of her recent encounters, and Felix undoubtedly because he was not only a kingdom loyalist but also an  _ officer _ in the army. Sometimes she forgot that. Instead of taking the main road, Felix insisted they duck immediately back into the trees and move onwards, and she gave no arguments.

He was the experienced one, as far as this covert traveling went.

“We should find a place to rest for the night.”

It was a simple statement, and Annette looked over at him. It was their second day on this side of the river, and Felix estimated another day and a half to the army’s last outpost. He had been on his own for at least three weeks, though, and had told her numerous times that the army could have been pressing onward without him. He’d told  _ them _ to do as much, if he could be believed, and Annette didn’t doubt it. Felix seemed just stubborn enough to say something like, “ _ I’ll catch up. If I’m not back, don’t wait for me. _ ”

She looked around a little, then asked, “What did you have in mind? Something out in the open, or something kind of covered, or is there maybe a barn somewhere nearby…?”

When she looked around them, all Annette could really see were trees. They’d walked far enough that she could hardly see through the dense underbrush, and the trees grew increasingly closer together. More and more of them were stunted, growing with bends and angles just to reach the much needed sunlight.

Felix glanced around, and she knew he was thinking back to the map. “I don’t know of any farms in this area, but I don’t know Gideon very well. I  _ do _ know this type of woodland, though. We may be able to find some partial cover, like the overhang we stayed under during the storm, but if we don’t find something like that soon–”

He stopped speaking suddenly, and Annette watched as his entire demeanor switched from casually talking about a camping place to tensed, coiled like a spring, ready to  _ attack _ . And then his hand went to the hilts at his side, almost faster than she could see, and Annette finally heard it—the sound of someone crashing carelessly through the brush. Then the clank of armor followed, and Annette took a single step away from the sound, raising her hands and drawing on her magic in preparation. 

But then a twig snapped, closer to her than to Felix, and she spun.

Swords flashed as the assassin lunged, and Annette threw her hands forward with a startled cry. A gust of wind rushed forward, slicing the trees and brush alike as it buffeted her attacker backwards, head over heels, until she fell to the ground unmoving. Annette didn’t pause to consider whether she was unconscious or more, whirling instead to find a brigand bearing down on Felix and what appeared to be a novice spellcaster weaving some kind of magic from the side.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she growled, and quickly brought another spell to her fingertips. This one was basic at best, but she put as much force behind it as she could muster and stepped to an angle where she would certainly get the mage and would at least stagger the brigand. And then, at its peak, she let the spell go.

Annette stumbled back but looked up quickly, watching as the brigand, axe raised, swayed and stumbled. He was forced to shift his grip on the axe, and damn near  _ roared _ with anger. Felix’s blade flashed as he charged forward once Annette’s spell had passed, and she let her gaze follow the path of the spell. As intended, the mage was hit with the brunt of the spell and his back met the tree directly behind him. She didn’t watch beyond that because a flurry of motion back to her right, where she’d initially thwarted the assassin, drew her attention. 

The arrow narrowly missed her, and she yelped. The archer just licked his lips, smirked, and nocked another arrow.

The assassin was rising from the ground behind him, too, and didn’t look happy. Annette knew she probably didn’t have much time, since the archer was already lifting his bow and beginning to draw, so she cursed and took a quick step back as she drew upon the most potent wind spell she had. Excalibur wasn’t as quick to cast as the others, so she felt a momentary panic in her chest when she watched the archer release his arrow before she’d finished with her spell, but what she sacrificed in speed she more than made up for in power. 

The sheer wind buffeted Annette back a few more steps when she cast the spell, and it disrupted the arrow’s path completely. The bowman tried to duck and roll, but he wasn’t nearly quick enough, and the assassin, who had ducked to the side and charged, one arm limp at her side, was still caught up in it.

And as she saw the woman tumble back with a gut feeling she wouldn’t be getting up again this time from the way the lower tree branch temporarily halted her backwards flight and forced her cry to come to a breathless halt, she started to feel a bit weightless herself. The archer’s bow had splintered into pieces, and while Annette didn’t think _ he _ had perished, he probably wouldn’t be standing back up again. 

And then the ground was rising, and she realized she was toppling down a bluff. She hadn’t noticed it in the growing darkness, and she screamed some sort of garbled version of, “ _ Felix _ !” as she toppled.

“ _ Annette _ !”

She grasped for footing, or a handhold, or anything to halt her fall, and struggled to make the world stop spinning around her. There was a clash, a grunt, another angry shout, and she finally managed to catch herself. Thankfully, the bluff wasn’t so steep she wouldn’t be able to climb back up as her eyes slowly adjusted, but she didn’t like not knowing what was going on with Felix. Especially when there was a pained exclamation that sounded like it might be him.

The brigand laughed loudly, and her blood ran cold. 

_ C’mon, Annie, move, _ she told herself silently, struggling to untangle her legs and get them beneath her. She must have bumped her head or something in her tumble since it was harder than she anticipated to stand, but with a few steadying breaths, she managed. Breathing came admittedly easier when she heard, “Why are  _ you _ laughing?” in a familiar growl. This time it was the brigand’s voice that cried out in pain, and then the sounds of clashing blades rang out again.

She grabbed a nearby tree to help pull herself back up the bluff, wincing when a pain throbbed in her leg, and pushed herself forward. 

When she finally got back to the top a minute or two later, Annette realized that some of the fighting had been another assassin springing out to join the fray. He was crumpled in a heap, unmoving, not far from where she’d been before the archer had revealed himself. But Felix...he was favoring his leg. She could see it in an instant, and the brigand was trying to make use of it by kicking out at it. Felix dodged efficiently, but she could see his face tighten with the effort.

She hardly had the breath from her topple and then climbing back up, but she used it anyway.

“Hey, ugly!” she shouted, trying to take an intimidating step forward but instead weakly stumbling a few steps. She planted her feet and started to draw on her magic again as the brigand spun at the sound. He laughed and tossed his axe from his left hand to his right.

“I’ll deal with you in a minute,  _ boy _ ,” he smirked and lumbered towards Annette. She gulped, and her palms burned as she continued pulling on her fire magic, despite being mostly healed thanks to medicinal herbs and salves over the last few days.

“ _ Annette _ !” she heard Felix shout, but she tried to calm her racing heart and focus instead on the enemy in front of her.

The brigand bore down on her, turning his stride into a jog with his axe swinging backwards in a vicious arc. She yelped but, now conscious of the bluff somewhere behind her, refused to step back. The spell in her hands was half-formed and wobbly, but she released it at him to buy just a few seconds to scramble further away, skirting towards Felix. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to cause him to pause and shout,  _ “You little bitch _ !” at the burn as he faltered.

It was also enough time for Felix to dive between them, pulling Annette back as he grimaced and raised his sword to block or deflect the blow. 

“Annette, get back!”

The way he braced his sword was different than she expected from what she’d seen of their first meeting, though granted it had been dark and she had been kind of preoccupied. He gave off the air of a man who knew his swords and how to use them. Annette would even say he was probably well on his way to being a swordmaster, or more, just from the way he walked and the few lectures she’d attended on actual melee combat at the academy, so when Felix raised his blade in a purely defensive manner instead of one that would be more conducive to a followup attack, she noted it.

He also angled his body in a way that would put him directly behind the blade, and as she heard the clash of metal Annette couldn’t help but yank him backwards. In normal circumstances, that probably wouldn’t have been smart. He knew what he was doing, or at least gave the appearance of it, but something didn’t feel right to her. It ended up working out for a few reasons she didn’t quite understand at that moment, however, as the sound of grating steel screeched in the air and the big man continued his downward swing. 

He scored a glancing blow across Felix’s torso, and the piece of his axe that had been sheared away narrowly missed Annette.

“What the…?” Felix’s tone conveyed almost as much confusion as Annette felt, and it was nearly lost amidst the roar of their opponent.

Annette stepped away again as the big man raised the axe for another swing. Before she could so much as start an incantation for any one of her spells, Felix had recovered from his momentary shock and charged forward, using his wounded leg to push forward. His sword sank easily through the cheap armor of the brigand, and he gave it a vicious twist to silence him forever.

When he pulled his sword out he stumbled back and stared at it for a moment, then spun and asked, “Annette, are you alright?”

“Felix, you’re  _ bleeding _ ,” were the first words Annette could muster, trying not to look at the still forms around them. Instead, she stepped towards him and squinted. “We’ll have to clean that and bandage it and—”

“Annette,  _ are you alright _ ?” 

She blinked at him, startled when his sword fell to the ground beside them and his hands grabbed her shoulders. His eyes were sharp, serious, and...concerned.

“I-I’m fine,” she managed, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. She averted her gaze and caught the dark stains spreading from the tears in his clothes and took a break to gather her wits. “But you’re not. Seriously, Felix, let’s get away from here a bit and bandage your wounds.”

Felix breathed out slowly, and his grip grew lax on her shoulders. After a moment, he grunted and bent to pick up his sword, giving it a look before he wiped it haphazardly on his already dirty breeches and sheathed it once more. “Let’s go, then.”

He refused her shoulder as a crutch, and they didn’t go too far away before they found a downed tree and she ushered him to sit on it while she gathered firewood. Annette made short work of that, just to make sure they had light. While she worked on that, she realized that Felix had already pulled out some medical supplies and started tending to the cut on his leg, which seemed shallow enough but had still bled plenty. Once she’d finished with the fire, she turned to Felix and crossed her arms in her best attempt at appearing intimidating.

“What?” he arched a dark brow.

“Shirt. Off.” Annette used her most demanding tone and tried to ignore other implications. That wasn’t in her nature, though, and she quickly followed it with, “You have that other injury to take care of, you know.”

“What about you?” he asked, waving her away. “You’re the one who fell. Are you sure you’re fine?”

Her leg hurt a little, she’d give him that, but only when she moved a certain way. And she was pretty sure she’d bumped her head somewhere above her ear on the right side, but it wasn’t anything serious. 

“A few bumps and bruises and some leaves in my hair,” she said dismissively instead. “You’re still  _ bleeding _ so stop worrying about me.”

He was already tugging off his overcoat, scowling, and she rummaged for whatever she might need to clean the wound. Since she wasn’t great at healing and could only do the basics, it helped to clean it and get a look at it first. If it was deep enough, she might not be able to heal the whole thing, but she’d be able to help it along and then bandage it if it needed more attention or more time.

Maybe she should heal the cut on his outer thigh, too, while she was at it. He’d already cleaned it up, after all, and she was sure it would only take one of her healing spells at about half power.

“I’m going to heal your leg while you do that,” she finally said decisively, stepping closer and kneeling next to him.

“You know faith magic, too?” he sounded surprised, and Annette laughed.

“Only a little. Scrapes and bruises are easy enough, but don’t get hurt any worse than this under my watch.”

Faith magic was harder to pull off than reason. Annette rationalized that it came from a different pool or source within, and hers was just deeper or harder to reach than her reason magic was. She remembered how good Mercie was at it, and while she was still good at reason magic, too, healing was almost second nature. Maybe it was because she had a pure heart and really just wanted to help people, or had more faith in the Goddess or any number of reasons. Maybe it was just because she wasn’t as clumsy as Annette. But Annette could still use it, and she would.

The warmth tingled through her arm, and she placed her hands carefully over the short gash. She’d be able to fully heal this one, just as she’d expected, though it was a little deeper than first glance revealed. Felix stilled for a moment as the healing began, but then finished dropping his cape and overcoat onto the tree trunk next to him and moved to untuck his shirt.

Annette forced herself to focus on her small healing spell while he did it, though she couldn’t help but catch a glimpse out of the corner of her eye.

Felix was a handsome man. He was a bit grumpy and stern at times, and made fun of her, but it didn’t keep him from being handsome. And fit, too, it seemed, because she nearly stopped her spell to stare until he moved again to prod at his own wound. Thankfully, it looked a lot less deadly than she’d feared, and she tore her attention back to the final stage of healing his thigh.

“There we go,” she sat back, a bit more breathless than she was willing to admit. “Now let’s have a look at the rest,” she rose to sit next to him on the log, slapping his fingers away from prodding at it. “I’m going to clean it up first, then try and heal some of it, okay? It’s deeper, and longer, so I might not be able to heal as much of it.”

He nodded, and gave a short, “Fine.”

It was as much of a go-ahead as she’d ever get from him, so Annette took a clean strip of cloth and dampened it with water from her canteen to wipe some of the blood and sweat and dirt away.

She saw Felix’s fingers trail across the hilt of his blade, then hesitate before sliding off, to rest on the log beneath them. He seemed tense, and she poked him unceremoniously in the ribs, well away from his wounds, and listened to him hiss.

“Stop being so tense, you’ll make this harder,” she scolded.

“Did you just—”

“Poke you? Yes. Now relax, Felix!” she poked him again, and he reflexively pulled away from her for a moment until she glared at him. He sighed and she watched as some of the tension eased from his form. “Good. Now stay like that while I get a good look at your ch—wound, your chest wound.”

_ While I get a good look at your chest. _

It’s what she nearly said, before she choked on the word and tried to save face. She busied herself with her task then, avoiding looking at his face at any and all costs. Of course, she realized that this meant she was looking  _ only _ at his chest, and she hoped that he didn’t see the flush she knew was spreading across her face. 

It was his fault for being so handsome. And for being injured.

Annette shook herself and focused on the wound— _ the wound, Annie, he’s injured _ — and finished cleaning around it. Part of the injury, near the bottom, was a little ragged and torn at the edges, but otherwise it was a relatively clean cut, and she should have little problem healing it, though maybe not fully. She took a deep breath, gave him a warning, and started to heal.

He remained silent through it, and relatively relaxed, so she was able to work pretty quickly. She figured it was partly due to his own age and athleticism, since that was also a factor in healing. It wasn’t a major factor for a healer as good as Mercie, but Annette would never consider herself that skilled, so she bet it played a part.

“I can’t get it all,” she told him, leaning back as she dragged the back of her hand across her forehead. Healing was an effort, since she wasn’t as familiar with it and it didn’t come as easily to her as wind, or fire. “It’s not that bad, mind, I’m just not a fantastic healer. A sip of vulnerary would take the edge off, if it’s giving you some pain, but it should heal up naturally within the week. We’ll bandage it now, though.”

“Sure,” Felix’s tone was level, and she nodded, turning to pick up the pack next to them that held the rest of their medical supplies. She rummaged for a moment before finding the roll of bandages that the kindly farm family from their first night had pressed upon them, and reached for the salve. “Hey, Annette?”

She jumped a little at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to address her directly, and turned. “Yeah?”

“Would you—I mean, can you—” he looked a little frustrated at himself, fingertips falling from the sword next to him again, and then he asked, almost in a rush, “Can you sing for me?”

Annette dropped the roll of bandages. Thankfully it fell to her lap and not to the dirt beneath her, but she stared at him in disbelief. “I. What?”

There were spots of color high in his cheeks and Felix turned his head away, “Please sing for me.”

“Are you making fun of me  _ now _ ?” she asked incredulously.

“What?  _ No _ !”

“Then why would you ask me to sing for you? I know you think they’re silly and stupid, just like everyone else—”

“Did I ever say I thought they were stupid?” Felix cut her off, demanding, and she opened her mouth to retort that  _ of course _ he had when she realized that...he really hadn’t. She’d put the words in his mouth time and time again, but he’d never once said them. She pouted.

“Well, you didn’t disagree either,” she said instead, pulling out the small pouch that contained the ointment and turning her attention fully on him once more.

“Would you have believed me if I did?” he arched a single eyebrow inquisitively, and she once more opened her mouth only to close it and sigh. She didn’t have to answer for him to snort and continue, “I thought not.”

“Why would you want me to sing for you?” she asked instead, scooping a bit of the medical salve on her fingers as she prepared to apply it, then the bandages. “Since they are just...childish and silly. Why don’t I just...cook you a nice, juicy steak or something next time we get the chance, and you forget all about it, and we’ll call it even?”

He chuckled, and she scowled up at him. 

“I can’t possibly forget your singing, or your songs,” Felix…grinned at her? That made her stomach do funny things, but she tried to ignore it to hear the rest of what he said. “It’s permanently etched into my memory. Stacks of steaks and cakes, isn’t it? And then, your fencing footwork. Are you sure you didn’t realize it was fencing footwork?”

“You’re  _ evil _ ,” Annette whined, shoving his shoulder lightly with the hand she wasn’t going to use for applying the medicine. He  _ was _ still injured, after all. “A  _ villain _ . I’m trying to help you and you’re just  _ mocking _ me!”

“I’m not,” his tone was less teasing this time. “I want to hear you sing, Annette.”

She looked up at him, and maybe Annette was no master of reading people, but she thought he looked sincere. His eyes were soft and pleading, and he was admittedly more relaxed than she remembered him being for most of their travels. There was still  _ one _ more thing she wanted to check, though, so she pursed her lips a little and reached up to feel his forehead with the back of her hand.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” she asked slowly. “That didn’t look like a venin axe, but I didn’t look at the assassin’s blade, and I assume that’s who got you in the leg. You’re not poisoned are you? You don’t appear to have a fever,” she pulled her hand back and looked at him.

Felix blinked at her, then chuckled again, slightly breathless, as he shook his head. “No, no, I’m fine, Annette.”

“Then why would you want me to  _ sing _ ?”

“Because I like the sound of your voice,” he said, then she noticed the spots of color high in his cheeks spreading, and his eyes widened and he turned away from her. “There’s something about it that...captivates me.”

“That...what?” she stared at him, a little nonplussed by that admission, and even more at the flush that appeared high in his cheeks.

“N-nothing, it’s nothing. You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

Annette couldn’t help the way her own face and ears started to burn. Felix was a taciturn sort of guy, stoic and aloof. He was a talented and deadly swordsman...and he actually wanted to hear her sing. He said he was  _ captivated _ by her singing. She didn’t think he was lying about it, and he didn’t have a fever, so it wasn’t that speaking. It was just unusual to her, for someone above the age of nine to actually ask her to sing because he wanted to hear it.

And he was blushing, which she absolutely couldn’t let him get away with after all the times she would swear he’d been teasing her.

“Felix...are you blushing?”

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be shy,” she cooed a little, leaning closer as he turned away. “You can admit it!”

“I’m not blushing!” he denied, vehemently, facing almost comically away from her. “I already said you don’t have to sing if you don’t want to, you don’t have to try other things to get out of it.”

She giggled a little to herself and sat back. She figured he’d snap any moment under embarrassment if she didn’t change the subject, and he didn’t seem the type that was as accustomed to being constantly embarrassed like she was, so she weighed her options. He supposedly liked hearing her sing, and she’d rarely get such a prime chance to sing without scornful looks for someone who claimed to enjoy it. The choice was easy, really.

She took a moment to find calm, and then breathed out slowly.

“Alright, I’ll sing for you just this once,” she said, not meeting his gaze. She heard him suck in a startled breath, though, so she counted that as a victory. “You did probably just save my life, after all. But don’t go getting used to it, okay? And you can’t use it against me later!”

“Ye-no, of course I won’t use it against you,” he seemed a little unsure of what to say, but it was fine. 

“We’ll sing the infirmary song, since it fits,” she decided aloud, and he huffed a small laugh.

“Do you have a song for everything?”

“Probably not everything. Now do you want me to sing, or not?”

He gestured for her to go ahead, though he didn’t look properly chastised. Annette decided to let it pass and drew in a breath. As the first soft word of her infirmary song passed her lips, she pressed her fingers lightly to the tip of his wound and drew them downwards slowly, applying the ointment as her lyrics dictated to before she moved on to bandaging.

Felix relaxed even more while she worked and sang, if that was even possible, and it made Annette feel strangely proud. She sang until the bandaging was done, and then turned to stoke the fire while Felix stood and stretched. He prodded his healed leg, then lightly across his torso before Annette scolded him, and then tugged his shirt back on. It was still torn and bloodied, but there wasn’t exactly anything that could be done about it right now.

“How far do you think we still have to go?” she asked, accepting the piece of jerky he offered her. She really  _ did _ miss cake, after over a week of being on the road now. She nibbled at the corner of it and sighed. 

“Not sure,” he answered, tearing off a piece of his own jerky with his teeth. “We’d probably find them tomorrow, if they haven’t moved, but who knows.”

_ Who knows, indeed _ .

She sighed again, and took a bite of her jerky. 

And then, the sound of wood snapping echoed through the trees and dark around them. Felix twisted to his feet almost immediately and reached for his sheathed sword immediately as Annette stumblingly followed suit as well as she could. The breeze picked up around them as she prepared another wind spell.

Felix drew his sword and peered through the trees, in the direction that more rustling was coming from, and nearly  _ growled _ , “Who goes there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, yet again, and I hope you're still invested!
> 
> I'm excited for everyone to see the amazing work that my partner soultyghost has put into it, but I have to tell myself to be patient. It'll be worth the wait, I assure you!
> 
> That said, stay tuned! I'll update in 3-4 days, though I'm aiming for Thursday!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long moment, they heard quicker footsteps, and a voice returned, “Wait, Fe? Felix, is that you?” 
> 
> The swordsman’s stance eased just a little, though he didn’t put his sword away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to post yesterday but stresssssssssssss. It's been...a week.
> 
> BUT HERE WE ARE. CHAPTER FOUR BOISSSS. Hope you enjoy it! :D

After a long moment, they heard quicker footsteps, and a voice returned, “Wait,  _ Fe _ ? Felix, is that you?”

The swordsman’s stance eased just a little, though he didn’t put his sword away.

“Sylvain?”

A tall form emerged from the trees, large silver axe slung easily over his shoulder. “Well, I’ll be. Fe, buddy, we were starting to think you were dead! All clear, guys, come on forward!” he motioned behind him. At an inquisitive glance from Felix, the tall redhead laughed. “Just a scouting party, don’t worry. We knew there were some bandits in the area, and someone reported shouting and the sounds of a scuffle out this way, so we had to come look. Found them a little ways back, and saw the fire.”

“Felix,” Annette said softly, “someone you know?”

The newcomer blinked and looked over to Annette, then grinned. “Hey, hey, Felix, who’s the little lady? The name’s Sylvain. Sylvain Jose Gautier, at your service!” he gave an informal little bow and winked at Annette. 

“He’s with the army,” Felix told her, slowly sheathing his sword. She kind of figured he was with the kingdom army, considering that he’d just introduced himself as a Gautier, but having a bit more assurance from Felix didn’t hurt, she supposed. He then turned back to his friend and said, “This is Annette.”

She sighed a little at the introduction, wondering if he was waiting on her to introduce herself, or wondering if he didn’t want to say her family name here for fear of retaliation. Her uncle  _ was _ backing Cornelia and the empire currently, after all. But Annette didn’t like doing things by halves, so she stepped forward and offered her hand.

“Annette Fantine Dominic.”

The big man, Sylvain, hesitated a moment, glanced at Felix, and then took her hand. “Dominic? As in...the Dukedom’s Dominic?”

She sighed. “Not by  _ my _ choice.”

A grin graced his features once more, and he laughed. “Ohoho, so that’s how it is. So what brings you to travel with Fe over here?” he motioned to Felix, who rolled his eyes.

“We need mages,” Felix cut in, “and she’s skilled. She was being detained and chased by imperials when we met. She’s apparently also a good friend of Mercedes, from when they were at the School of Sorcery.”

“Oh really?” he arched a brow, and Annette noticed the rest of his men falling in around them, at ease. “Mercedes mentioned being friends with someone called Annie a few times, I think, and mentioned not being able to write. That must be you, eh?”

Annette smiled, “I hope she’s not better friends with another Annie!”

“You said you’re a scouting party,” Felix stepped back in, glancing around them. “That means we’re close to camp? You haven’t moved on yet?”

“We’re actually moving out within the week,” the redhead answered. “Dimitri didn’t want to leave without you, or without knowing if you were still alive, but Gilbert convinced him that it was unwise to linger here any longer if we wanted to reach Fhirdiad before Cornelia sent for help from Edelgard.”

“Let me guess,” Felix’s tone turned sharp, edged like poison, and Annette nearly flinched away. “He said something about not letting our sacrifices be in vain, and that we had died in service to the crown. Like  _ true knights _ .”

Sylvain did flinch. “Something like that.”

Annette didn’t like the way Felix’s face twisted into something entirely unreadable. She thought there was hurt, with pain flickering through his eyes, as well as resignation, and anger, and so much more. But he just scowled darkly, a vast contrast to the soft smiles he’d given her not half an hour earlier, and turned away.

“They’re all the same,” he muttered darkly, before buckling his sword belt in place. “Well, we’d best head back then, lest he start fearing that my entire family is haunting him.”

The specific brand of bitterness in his tone at that, and the way that Sylvain visibly blanched for just a moment made Annette file the words away. There was something about it that gave her pause– _ my entire family is haunting him _ –and she wondered. At some point during this war, recently even, had they lost the Shield of Faerghus? 

Annette had heard many things of Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, in the past. That he was a strong man, that he was brave, that he was one of the best knights in all the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. That he was kind but firm, stalwart, and would risk everything for his king and kingdom. He was dear to her own father, and consolation that he had died in service to the crown sounded like something Gustave would have said, too. 

Were all the men in his generation so callous? This  _ Gilbert _ was probably one of them.

She wondered if most of them were also absent fathers, but that was a thought for another time, as Sylvain motioned to the rest of his party and called, “You heard the man! Jaron, ride ahead and let them know Felix is back with a new recruit! Maybe get Mercedes or Manuela just to check them out, since they clearly had a scuffle.”

“Yessir!” a soldier to her left saluted and bowed, and then ducked back into the trees. 

Sylvain motioned around their haphazard campsite. “So...anything to pack up? Ready to head back to the rest?”

Annette glanced around them. They hadn’t yet started settling in for the night, after she’d dealt with his wounds, so all she really needed was to make sure she gathered all the medical supplies back up. With a glance, though, she didn’t see anything out of place, and she heard Felix tell Sylvain there wasn’t anything.

“Great! Grab your bags and we’ll snuff out the fire and head to camp, then! The others will be thrilled to see that you’re still alive, you know.”

“Every sword counts,” Felix intoned, flatly. Annette snorted behind her hand.

“Oh, c’mon, Fe. You know that’s not what I mean!” Sylvain whined, but he didn’t sound too terribly sincere. He was smiling, though, and Felix snorted and waved it off, so Annette assumed it was probably commonplace between them. “Besides, you’re bringing another cute lady to us, and you say she’s got talent,” Sylvain then winked at Annette, and she tried not to grimace too visibly, “so everyone will be stoked!”

“Don’t listen to him, he never says anything worth remembering,” Felix said to Annette, and she couldn’t help but laugh again. “Ready to go?”

She stepped over next to the downed tree and scooped up her pack from the ground. “I’m ready! I can’t wait to see Mercie’s face! And also to have her look at your wound to make sure it will heal up fine.”

“You said it would, and I trust you,” Felix said simply, and Annette didn’t miss the visible shock on Sylvain’s face over Felix’s shoulder. “Now let’s go and get you enlisted, unless you’re going to change your mind?”

Annette scowled. “Fe _ lix _ ,” she emphasized the last half of his name, “you  _ know _ all I’ve wanted since this war started was to be on the right side of it!” 

He chuckled, and Sylvain stared at him. That is, until Felix turned around and asked him what the hell he was looking at. Sylvain easily dismissed him with a wave of his hands and some flowery but pretty flimsy words. Instead of demanding a real answer from him, Felix just groaned and let it be.

“Can we get a move on?” he just asked, surly as ever. “I’d like to get one good night’s sleep before we have to start marching again.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Sylvain gave an exaggerated bow, then winked at Annette again. “Let’s all head back, then, so we can find some accommodations for our new little mage!”

“I’ll show you little,” she huffed under her breath. Felix snorted, and Sylvain turned to him to ask what he was laughing at. Felix glanced at Annette, amusement in his expression, and just shook his head and turned to walk the way that Sylvain and his scouting party had come from. 

“C’mon, Fe,” he groaned. Felix didn’t reply, so Sylvain just whined and continued to lead the party through the trees, his small group fanning out around them a bit. After a while, he assured them, “It’s not far now, see? You can see some of the fires through the trees.”

Annette was pretty exhausted already, and her leg ached by the time they stepped from the wooded outskirts onto a field full of tents and banners and carts and whatever else. She felt like she had never seen so much Kingdom blue in her entire life, even when she’d been in the capital for school. And standing at the edge of camp was a group undoubtedly drawn by Sylvain’s message and messenger.

As they drew nearer, the tallest member of the group broke his vigil and strode forward, the rest falling in step with him to meet in the middle.

“Felix, my friend,” his tone was low, kind of emotional, and he reached forward to grasp Felix’s forearm as Felix did the same to him. “I...am so glad to see you alive and well. And I hear you’ve brought a new recruit with you, and a mage at that,” his eye slid over to Annette, and she froze a little under the strangely both gentle and piercing gaze. “We will never turn away a helping hand. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, at your service, Miss…?” 

He had released Felix’s hand and gave a short bow as he offered her his hand.

“A-Annette,” she breathed after a long moment of trying to drown out her thoughts. Particularly the intrusive ones about how the person in front of her was her future king, the one she was here to swear loyalty to, the one that Cornelia had reported as dead. She swallowed and gave a more firm introduction. “Annette Fantine Dominic, Your Highness.”

She bowed, but hesitated to take his hand. Would he want anything to do with the heir of a region that had ceded to Cornelia’s threats?

“Dominic, is it?” he sounded...intrigued, but not angry or distrustful. In fact, he took her hand and shook it when she did not close the gap herself. “Pleased to meet you, then, Miss Dominic.”

“Please, just Annette is fine.”

Was that too forward? She hoped it wasn’t presumptuous.

“Annette, then,” his tone was warm. “You two both look like you must be quite weary from your travels, but I would like to speak with you both if you’ll allow it. In half an hour, at the command tent?”

“Why not now?” Felix asked, crossing his arms. “If we get it out of the way sooner, we will be able to rest sooner.”

“Because  _ someone _ ,” a woman strode forward and punched Felix in the arm, “looks like he could probably use some healing, and your friend was limping when you guys walked up, and you both could probably use a warm meal.”

Annette flushed when Felix turned to her, then to look down toward her feet. “Annette–”

The woman held out her hand. “Ingrid Brandl Galatea. Annette, wasn’t it? Sorry you had to travel with Fe for so long. He doesn’t know how to interact with women,” she glanced over at the redhead, who was talking with another person next to the prince, with strangely bright mint hair and eyes. Flirting, more like. “Neither does Sylvain, for that matter.”

“It...wasn’t that bad,” Annette said, honestly. “He saved my life.”

Ingrid grinned when Annette took her hand and shook it. “Yeah, he does that. But he doesn’t really pay attention to himself. He kind of just throws himself into the fray. The whole ‘lone wolf’ type, or whatever it is.”

“Ingrid,” Felix groaned, and the blonde woman just laughed.

“Anyway, let’s get you two to the medical area. They’re already ready for you guys, and Ashe is working to try and get something to eat ready, since dinner was a few hours ago. And then we can all go to the command tent later. Half an hour, right?” 

The prince chuckled and agreed, “Half an hour.”

He bowed and excused himself, heading back through the tents as Ingrid pulled Annette’s arm over her shoulder despite her protests. Felix gave Annette a concerned look and she just smiled at him and shook her head. She hadn’t really felt it that much, so he shouldn’t look as if he felt responsible for it.

Ingrid was a bit rigid, as far as her manner of speaking. She seemed very blunt and decisive, but she did ask Annette a few questions about their travels, how she met Felix, and why she decided to join the army now. She answered as simply as she could, still omitting that the imperials had mistaken her for a bladesinger, somehow, and appreciated when Felix cut in with, “I’m sure the boar prince will ask all the same questions. Are you really going to have her answer them again?”

“Yeah, Ing,” Sylvain, still walking with them, spoke up with a laugh. “Is this an interrogation or are we escorting them to the medical tents? Jeez. And here they are now, anyway,” he gestured to the tent in front of them, inside which Annette could hear a few voices talking low. “How are you feeling, Annette?”

“I’m fine, really,” she laughed a little, raising a hand dismissively. “I’ve sprained my ankle a lot worse before, and that’s nothing on the way I burned my hands about a week ago when I was trying to get away from the imperials.”

“Yeah, but still–”

“Wait...that voice,” a voice loudly cut across whatever Sylvain was about to say, and the tent flap ahead whipped aside before they reached it. “Is it really– _ Annie _ ?!”

“Mercie!” Annette finally pulled herself away from Ingrid to throw her arms around the new blonde, laughing. “Felix  _ said _ you were here and I almost didn’t believe it! How are you? Are you okay?”

“Annie, don’t you dare ask me that. Have you seen yourself?” the older woman pulled her back to arm’s length, looking her over. “You look awful! Does it hurt anywhere? Is it your leg? I heard you mention a burn, too, didn’t I? Oh, Annie, didn’t I tell you to take care of yourself when we were apart?”

“Oh, so you know our newest recruit, Mercedes?” Sylvain interrupted, leaning into the conversation. She saw Felix’s face contort in exasperation, and she thought she understood, considering that she herself had already had this conversation with Sylvain when they had met. “Did you guys grow up together or something?”

She shooed him back. “We went to the Royal School of Sorcery together, Sylvain,” she said, kindly but in the way Annette knew meant  _ how dare you interrupt me _ . “Annie, I really wish you’d been able to come to the Officer’s Academy! You would have loved it...until, well…”

“You were going to go to Garreg Mach?” Ingrid slipped back in, curious. “Oh, Mercedes, was this the friend you said had scholarships, but whose guardian wouldn’t allow her to come?”

“That’s me,” Annette smiled, twirling some hair around her finger sheepishly. “What a waste of a scholarship, too.”

“It really was such a shame,” Mercedes sighed. “You worked so hard to graduate top of our class so you could get to the Officer’s Academy.”

“Wait,  _ top of your class _ –” Ingrid started, sounding startled, but she didn’t finish the question.

“Nevermind that, will you kids just get  _ in _ here so we can patch them up?” a sharp, no-nonsense tone sounded from the tent, and Annette whipped around to see an older woman standing there, a hand on her hip. “We don’t have all night, you know. I, for one, would like to get some beauty sleep before dawn.”

Mercedes startled a little, then said, “Yes, of course! Come on, you two, let’s get you patched up!”

Felix grumbled something about being fine, and Annette just glared at him until he sighed and moved to step in the tent as well. Mercedes pulled her over to one empty cot, and Sylvain nudged Felix to a stool a little ways away. Ingrid dismissed herself to go see if the food was ready for them, and then after an exchange between him and Felix that Annette didn’t hear, Sylvain followed after.

The woman scolded Felix a little. It made Annette realize that he must always put off seeing a healer when he was wounded, and she wanted to scold him herself. But as she checked him over, she clicked her tongue and Annette overheard her say, “Well, it’s not a  _ complete _ job, but whoever healed you got a good start on it.”

Mercedes stepped back over to Annette after having rummaged through some supplies at the end of the cot. “Oh, so you worked on your healing more, Annie?” she asked slyly, and the woman tending Felix looked over.

“Oh? So you’re a healer too?” she glanced back at Felix. “Well, you’d do in a pinch, but you’re going to have to work harder if you want to help us with more severe wounds and healing them completely. This one doesn’t look like it was too bad, and you couldn’t even fully heal it,” she tapped Felix’s chest, and he scowled up at her.

“I-I’m not a great healer, or really a healer at all, ma’am,” Annette shook her head and put up a hand. “I’m much better at reason magic. I’ve always been good at black magic, but I wanted to know a little white magic in case I was ever in a bind.”

“Don’t  _ ma’am _ me, do I look that old to you?” she snapped at Annette, and Felix scoffed. She slapped the back of his head for it, and then turned back to Annette. “It’s Manuela. And you are...Anna? Anne? What was it you called her, Mercedes?”

“ _ Annette _ .”

It wasn’t Annette or Mercedes that corrected her, though. It was Felix, rubbing the back of his head where she’d smacked him and scowling at her some more. A scowl really  _ did  _ seem to be his default expression after all. The thought made Annette increasingly happy to have seen more than that while they’d been traveling. 

“Well, then,  _ Annette _ , for someone who’s better at black magic, you did quite well in a pinch. Usually we mages and bishops and whatever else struggle with being good at more than one type of magic. My own black magic is lacking, but since I also do a touch of bladesinging I suppose it’s only natural.”

“Wait, you can both bladesing  _ and _ do magic?” Annette leaned forward, and Mercedes scolded her a little. She pushed Annette back so that she could continue looking at her leg. She’d fallen mostly silent since instigating the conversation and instead focused on her task. “Isn’t that supposed to be really rare?”

“Don’t be too impressed,” Manuela dismissed, reaching down to finish healing up Felix’s wound. Annette envied how easy it looked, and maybe was a little jealous of the fact that Manuela was touching Felix like that. The thought nearly mortified her, and she was thankful that Manuela chose that moment to continue speaking. “I can only do some basic poison enchantments with my bladesongs, nothing more. I do wish it was more elegant or perhaps flashy, but poison has its merits, I suppose. There’s always room for a venin blade in war, after all.”

Annette hummed in agreement, but she couldn’t help but be impressed. This woman was an actual bladesinger, and could use magic too? All the stories and legends and books made it seem extremely rare to be talented at both, so Annette had ceased all hopes of being a bladesinger and helping out her father and country that way as soon as she’d learned her first spell. Her mother always thought it was silly, because almost everyone has at least a few spells they can learn or have the talent for, but she shrugged it off anyway. 

Even as a child, Annette had been fairly practical. Sure, it broke her heart, but if she stopped trying to bladesing and focused on her skills in magic, then she could still help out that way.

“Well, Annie,” Mercedes spoke up, voice just as soothing as ever, “how did you end up running into Felix? And what are you doing here? I thought Lord Dominic was planning to keep you from the war at all costs, after what happened to…” she trailed off, but Annette knew she was thinking of the first public display of the atrocities that the empire was willing to commit, even before the official declaration of war. They hadn’t been near the Tragedy of Duscur, but the loss of their king, and of so many other good men, had hit hard. As well as...

She couldn’t imagine what it would be like, as a parent, to have your son’s head returned to you in a box.

Or, she realized with horror, glancing over to Felix,  _ your older brother’s _ .

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Annette answered instead, quickly trying to redirect the conversation. Mercedes’ eyes widened as she realized what she’d said, and she looked mortified. Annette knew the feeling, but it was unfamiliar and a bit out of place on the face of someone who was normally so unflappable. Annette’s heart was pounding in her ears and she tried to glance up at Felix. His head was turned away, and she couldn’t see his face, but his shoulders looked stiff. She blanched and looked back down, moving her leg a little as Mercedes pulled her hands slowly away. “I-I think Felix said that His Highness was probably going to ask about it, so maybe I can just say it all once?” she offered.

_ Just don’t say anything more about that.  _

Annette didn’t want Mercedes to continue the conversation, and Mercedes still looked rather mortified at the implication to Empire’s  _ examples _ she’d made with Felix within earshot.

“Y-yes, of course, Annie, if that’s what you want,” she said, nodding and stepping back just as the tent flaps moved again and Ingrid and Sylvain entered with another young man, hair an ashen grey in the light. “Oh, look, this must be your meals!”

The newcomer laughed and agreed.

“It’s not much, just a little something made with what was left over from preparing dinner earlier, but I hope it does the trick!”

Annette liked him instantly, and even more when he smiled at her and offered her a bowl that was still slightly steaming.

“Thank you,” she smiled back, and then fell a bit short when she realized she didn’t know his name. She remembered that the others had mentioned it when they were talking amongst themselves, but she couldn’t recall what it had been.

Mercedes was, in some cases, an absolute goddess-sent blessing in disguise, previous words notwithstanding, and she proved it again. She glanced back up after rearranging something nearby, and exclaimed, “Oh my! That’s right. Annie, this is Ashe. And Ashe, this is my best friend since we met at the School of Sorcery, Annette!”

The man flushed at her attention, and Annette arched a brow up at him in the split second before he turned back to her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Annette!” 

“Likewise, Ashe,” Annette grinned, reaching for the spoon and inhaling slowly. With the warmth pressing into her palms, she breathed a happy sigh. “It smells so good...and it’s so warm!”

“I imagine you didn’t eat many hot meals on the road with just the two of you, unless you’re a good cook yourself,” Ingrid piped up, slipping over to them while Ashe excused himself to greet Felix. 

“Not true,” Felix grunted, before Annette could offer any sort of answer.

“So you guys ate what, grilled fish once or twice? Maybe a hare?” Sylvain piped up, and Felix resolutely placed his spoon in his mouth and looked away. Annette couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up, and when the others turned to her expectantly she just shrugged, preparing to take her first taste as well. Sylvain shrugged. “Well, that answers that.”

“Annette made stew.”

She glanced over to him, and he was resolutely not looking up at Ingrid or Sylvain, but he met Annette’s eyes for a short moment before averting his gaze, color high in his cheeks. He was probably embarrassed at the heckling of his friends, and it made her smile. At least he was able to see his friends again like this, and she was incredibly happy to be able to see her best friend again, too.

Even when she knew Annette much too well, and was more than happy to tease her.

“What else did she catch on fire?” 

“ _ Mercie _ !”

She nearly dropped her bowl, but Mercedes reached out a hand to help steady it with an outwardly benevolent smile. It was the crinkle at the corner of her eyes and the way her eyes shimmered that made Annette scowl at her.

“Only a sock,” Felix answered, almost begrudgingly.

He neglected to mention he’d been wearing it, but it was one of the wet nights so he’d caught it before there was much more than a small hole and managed to put it out in the wet grass, but Annette had the suspicion that Mercedes knew, and from the way she let out a breathy laugh, she figured that the others present had figured it out, too.

Felix wouldn’t look at anyone, again. She thought he had the right idea.

“Now, this is all quite charming, but you’re crowding the tent so I’m going to see myself out,” Manuela sighed, bumping shoulders with Sylvain on her way out. “It’s been a long day, and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Sleep well, Manuela!” Mercedes was the first to call out, and most of the others followed suit, Sylvain with a wink. Ingrid elbowed him.

“Once you guys have eaten, we’ll head off to the command tent. His Highness will probably already be waiting there for us,” Ingrid said, perching herself on a crate near Felix’s stool. “Oh, but don’t think you have to rush. Take your time.”

Annette had been preparing to scoop a much larger bite, but toned back a little at Ingrid’s easy assurance. Felix muttered something about how he would’ve taken his time anyway, and Ingrid rolled her eyes as Sylvain snorted. They chattered amongst themselves for a few minutes, though Mercedes had sat on the cot next to Annette and leaned into her side just a little. It was nice and comforting, especially considering that she hardly knew anyone else in the room. 

Now that they were back at camp, Annette wondered if Felix was going to always be so far away from her. He was an officer, she was almost certain. And since she would just be the new recruit, she couldn’t really see them having direct contact, unless he was for some reason in charge of the battalion of mages that she’d be assigned to. She kind of got the idea that he wasn’t really in favor of leading battalions, though, so that possibility was pushed aside, as well.

She’d probably never admit it out loud, but she already missed him.

She drowned that in chatting with Mercie, and with Ashe who had wandered back over, and occasionally to the others. She learned then that Ingrid had been betrothed to Felix’s older brother, and that Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain had all been childhood friends, along with the prince. She started to ask more, but Felix diverted the conversation with a question about Mercie’s earlier comment on graduating top of her class. 

Mercedes diverted that topic with the claim that His Highness would probably want to hear the same in just a few minutes. And then, shortly after she and Felix had finished eating, the conversation slowed and Ashe offered to run their bowls back. 

“I’ll meet you guys at the command tent,” he promised, grinning warmly. And then, before he left, “It really has been nice meeting you, Annette. Let’s talk more, later!”

And then he was gone with the rustle of the medical tent flap, and Mercedes stood and offered Annette a hand.

“We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Annette nodded. Felix grumbled something she couldn’t quite make out, and she heard Sylvain snort and clap him on the shoulder. Ingrid rolled her eyes and took the lead, motioning for the others to follow.

“Alright, alright, let’s go.”

The trek to the command tent, from there, was a matter of minutes. The camp covered more ground than it had seemed from the outside, so even though both the command tent and medical tents were somewhere near the center, there were various other tents between them. Officers’ tents, supply tents or carts, and the like also took up some of the space. They reunited with Ashe amidst these tents, and he filed in with Ingrid. Annette thought she overheard them talking about an old knight’s tale, and she held herself back from joining in for the moment.

The minutes passed quickly in company and soon they approached the command tent, situated across the path from what was obviously the royal tent. Annette felt slightly out of place, but took a deep breath as they all started to file in.

No one bothered with any sort of protocol, aside from bowing to the prince at the front of the tent as they entered. He greeted each in turn, and when Annette lowered her head, the last in line, he greeted her much the same. He already had committed her name to memory–that, or he’d forget it later.

But when she raised her head, her thanks fell stilted from her lips as she stared at the man standing to his right and trying desperately not to meet her eyes. It was a face she hadn’t seen in years but would never forget. 

How could she, when his eyes had smiled when he offered her his most recent whittled doll? When he had lifted her and cradled her close, and sang to her even though his voice was rough and gravelly and nothing like her mother’s? Her memories were that of a child’s where he was concerned, but there was no mistaking him.

“ _ Father _ ?”

Felix tensed at her incredulous statement and turned to her quickly, ignoring Sylvain beside him. She saw as much from the corner of her eye, as he followed her gaze. Annette noticed it, but she couldn’t spare any more of her attention to look away from the man next to Dimitri. Her throat suddenly felt very dry, and Mercedes placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Annie, what are you saying?”

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she demanded, not budging. Whatever small protocol the others had followed was probably being thrown. “Gustave Dominic!”

“Gilbert Pronislav, Miss Dominic,” he lowered his head, but did not meet her eyes. Annette stared at him, then felt fury build in her chest. This man...it was the same face, the same voice, the same build that she remembered. He was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the same man in her memories. Annette was rarely as certain of anything as she was of this. And yet...he wouldn’t acknowledge it. He’d been alive all these years when Annette and her mother had wondered where he was at. But instead of returning to his family, he’d turned the barony over to his brother and had hidden at Garreg Mach, if the standard issue of the armor he wore was anything to go by, beneath the royal blue tabard of the Kingdom Army.

_ Now _ he showed where he had placed his loyalties.

Annette swallowed and inclined her head, remembering where she was. “If you say so,” she responded tersely, and turned to the side where she would have the least chance of making that very eye contact he seemed to dread so. “Forgive me, Your Highness, for the delay.”

“Not at all, Annette,” he spoke warmly but a little hesitantly, glancing to the man at his right. “You have had a long journey, so please be at ease.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Everyone, please be seated,” the prince gestured at the stools around the table. Annette felt very out of place, almost like she shouldn’t be here. “First of all, Annette, I’d like to introduce you to Dedue Molinaro, a trusted friend,” he gestured to a large man, clearly of Duscurian descent, over his left shoulder. “Dedue, the newest recruit that Felix brought back with him–Annette Dominic.”

He nodded, solemn, and Annette offered a soft, “Nice to meet you.”

“And then this is Byleth Eisner,” he gestured to a woman seated to his left, with almost eerily green hair and eyes. “She was our professor at the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach, and a most trusted advisor and comrade.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Annette,” she said, nodding her head.

“And you as well.”

Satisfied with the introductions, Dimitri went on to ask for details, as Felix had suspected. He asked how they had met, and Annette was just waiting for Felix to drop the entire tale. She waited for him to explain that some imperials thought Annette was a bladesinger and took her bodily from the small village of Rahl, that she had escaped during the bandit ambush only to almost be done in by them herself before Felix dropped in to save her. She expected him to talk about how silly her songs were, or about how hopeless she was outside of a few black magic spells and dabbling in healing.

But he didn’t.

Felix told everything in a very short and to-the-point manner, succinctly describing how they’d met and traveled and what they’d faced or seen along the way. He didn’t mention her singing or her songs, or that the imperials thought she was a bladesinger.

All Annette could really do was nod and agree, and then join Mercedes in confirming that yes, she had attended the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad with Mercedes, and yes she  _ had _ in fact graduated top of her class. She could use an axe a little bit, because it’s what her father and uncle had taught her when she was young, but she hadn’t kept up with it as much as she should’ve when she discovered her aptitude for magic.

Felix vouched for her in battle. Mercedes vouched for her in skill.

“I think I’ve heard all I need, for tonight,” Dimitri smiled at Annette. “I must thank you again for coming to us, Annette. I do hope you’ll forgive me for keeping you from resting properly after all that you and Felix have been through, and I promise we shall not keep you here much longer. Before we depart, I do need to determine one more thing,” here the prince looked around at Ingrid, then to Mercedes. “Is there room anywhere for us to put Annette up for the night? And for the rest of the journey, or at least until we could requisition more tents or cots?”

Ingrid opened her mouth but Mercedes beat her to the punch. “Oh, there’s no need to be concerned about that. Annie can stay with me, if there are no objections.”

There were none, and Dimitri dismissed them. The rest passed in a bit of a blur, her new acquaintances bidding them good night and Mercedes leading her away, back in the direction of the medical tents. She explained it was because she was one of their better healers, and she usually pitched her tent a bit away from the other officers’ tents and more towards the medical area.

Mercedes easily rustled up another bedroll, though Annette didn’t want to think about who it might have belonged to before, and laid it out in her tent.

“I want to talk and catch up,” she murmured in the still after they had settled everything, “but you must be exhausted, Annie. And now that you’re with us, we have much more time to catch up.”

Annette hummed, and thanked her, before she herself drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HONHONHON HERE WE ARE. WELCOME TO THE ARMY, ANNIE! 
> 
> Hope you liked these developments, and I hope you're sticking around! There's still a biiiiit more to come! And by a bit I mean there's at least 3-4 more chapters. I just have to split them up and decide how big each chapter will be and all that.
> 
> As always, keep an eye out coming up for the artwork by my partner soultyghost :D :D I'm excited to share EVERYTHING about Silversong with you guys! :D
> 
> Look for another chapter on Sunday or Monday!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He averted his gaze and his cheeks, if she wasn’t mistaken, started to flush darker. “Rather...could you...sing for me again? Later?” 
> 
> “You want me...to sing for you,” she said slowly, “again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, later on the update than intended, RIP. It's been A Time. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like the update!!

The camp for the army of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was an entirely new experience for her. She had met few of her new comrades and was actually familiar with even fewer, so she felt a bit out of place. She would learn quickly, she knew, either by chance or by sheer force of will, but until she did it would seem a bit awkward. Perhaps as an extension of her nervousness at her new surroundings, Annette sang less within the confines of their camp. 

She’d heard so much of her childish songs, accusations that she shouldn’t sing if she wasn’t a bladesinger or in worship, that she didn’t want to invite such censure when she had only just joined the army. She was already bound to get more questions about why she hadn’t joined sooner. 

It only took a few hours for her to miss humming to herself or singing softly around the fire with Felix, but she pushed it back. She could sing softly in the tent she now shared with Mercedes and everything would be fine. Annette would miss the few times she sang loudly around their fire, particularly after Felix had annoyed her and she chose instead to drown him out with the sound of her own voice, but she could sacrifice some of that for the chance to help her country.

She swallowed the urge to hum as she made her way to the mess tent, where Ashe and Mercedes and a few other soldiers were preparing the midday meal, and focused instead on the thought of food. It was already her second day in camp, and she had been fairly well welcomed by many troops. She was set to have a brief test of magic with Hanneman, a former magic professor from the Officer’s Academy, later that afternoon and Mercedes had demanded that Annette meet her at the mess tent at noon sharp. 

Mercedes really did know her too well. She knew that Annette would keep poring over whatever possible study material she could find leading up to the test of skill. She didn’t understand Annette’s desire to be absolutely certain on all fronts, instead assuring her that she’d do fine.

Annette was on her way, running perhaps a little behind due to her review, when she neared one of the small smithing tents. It was hard enough to transport enough weapons to last a war on the move, but for there to be a smithing area for repairs nearly baffled her. What drew her attention more, however, was the man speaking to the smith.

_ Felix _ .

She had hardly seen him yesterday, aside from another brief assembly where they were asked to provide more details of their journey now that they were rested, this time with all officers in attendance. She’d spent a lot of the time answering as honestly and clearly as she could while omitting the suspicion the ignorant Imperials had of her being a bladesinger, and looking anywhere but at the man who didn’t want to be her father, so she didn’t remember much else of the conversation.

“–thought you weren’t interested in bladesongs, Sir Fraldarius?”

The barrel of untipped arrows was suddenly in her way, and Annette yelped as she toppled. She managed to right herself by catching onto the edge of a  crate next to them, but the damage was done. When she looked around to see if anyone had noticed, she found the blacksmith and Felix both looking at her. Felix arched his brow, and the blacksmith bustled out.

“Are you okay there,  lass ? You should watch where you’re going!”

She hardly comprehended what the man was saying because of what he’d said to Felix. 

_ They’d been talking about bladesinging _ .

Had Felix told the smith, of all people, that those damned imperials thought she was a bladesinger? She had thought she could trust him with that, since he hadn’t told his soon-to-be  _ king _ , but–

“Are you okay, Annette?” this time it was Felix, and Annette snapped straight with a startled squeak before her face started to burn. 

“I-I’m fine! I don’t know where that barrel came from, I swear they just keep ending up underfoot, but I’m fine!”  _ You horrible, evil, meanie _ , she added silently.

“The barrel was there first,” he observed  drily , eyebrow arching even further up his forehead. “But as long as you’re fine, then everything is good.”

“Fe _ lix _ ,” she emphasized the last syllable, about to give him a what-for, before the smith chuckled and finished sitting the barrel upright once more. Thankfully, none of the shafts had fallen out of it, so there wasn’t a lot of work to be done. If they had, she would’ve insisted that she take over. 

“Now, now, Sir Fraldarius, that’s no way to treat a lady,” he chastised, though in a tone that made Felix  snort a laugh. “I’m glad you’re fine, miss,” he directed to Annette this time with a short nod before making his way back to the  worktable upon which Felix’s silver sword was placed. “Now, about your blade–”

“You’re right, I haven’t got any interest in bladesongs, Richter,” he waved his hand. “I haven’t the slightest idea why it seems to have one now, but I’ve had it since just before the battle at Gronder. Can you still repair it?”

“Oh, of course, of course. Bladesongs are a wee odd like that, you know. They’ll allow for repairs that chip away, but most of ‘em prevent damage in battle to some degree. Fickle things, wouldn’t you say?”

“Which is why I’ve never cared for them,” Felix shrugged. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

“I have a few others, but I can probably get it back to you by tomorrow morning. Would that be alright with you, sir?”

Felix nodded. “That’ll be fine.”

Annette straightened her skirt and turned to leave as Felix and the smith wrapped up behind her. She was only a few paces away when she heard, “Annette!” from behind her, and turned back to see Felix striding over. “Where are you headed?”

“Is that any of your business?” she asked, recalling the talk of bladesongs. It seemed that he hadn’t really said anything about  _ her _ being suspected as a bladesinger, but she still was a little  miffed . 

“Not really,” he shrugged, but didn’t fall out of step with her.

After a moment, she flushed and forced an exaggerated sigh. “I’m meeting Mercie at the mess tents for lunch, if you must know.”

“I agreed it wasn’t my business.”

“But you’re still following me!”

Felix let out a small huff that she realized was a laugh. “I was dropping off my sword on the way to get food anyway, so I’m not  _ following _ you. We’re going the same direction, Annette.”

She flushed. “Well, how was  _ I _ supposed to know that when you didn’t say it?”

“You didn’t ask.”

While he wasn’t wrong, Annette still scowled at him. She felt like it probably came off a bit more like a pout, but it was the effort that mattered. “Well, you could have said it anyway, after teasing me earlier. You’re so...so mean!”

“So I’ve heard.”

They continued walking together, though. Felix seemed unfazed by Annette’s outburst, and Annette didn’t really want to be separated from him so soon. He wasn’t really a great conversation partner but he also wasn’t an imperial hell-bent on dragging her to Enbarr, or to the Empire’s camps, under those false assumptions that she was a bladesinger.

And he teased her, sure, but she couldn’t stay mad at him. She’d tried to stay mad at him on the road, and it had never worked.

“Although…” Felix started, thoughtfully, and Annette looked slowly back to him as she pulled herself back to the present. “This  _ is _ a war camp, and steaks and cakes aren’t really standard fare…”

“Ugh, you’re  _ evil _ , Felix!” she stamped her foot, and outpaced him as he huffed a soft laugh behind her and picked up the pace to follow.

Sylvain was at the mess tent as well, and pulled Felix away as soon as they arrived, though not without greeting Annette with an added wink. Ingrid’s voice had called to them from the line, holding a warning tone for Sylvain. She offered Annette a wave as the others went to join her. Annette waved back with a smile, then turned her attention to searching for Mercedes. 

“Oh, Annette!” a voice behind her startled her a little, and she turned to find Ashe there, carrying a large pot of what looked like some sort of stew. It smelled amazing, and Annette swallowed lest she start drooling, opting to smile and wave at him instead.. “If you’re looking for Mercedes, she just went to get some more water. She’ll be back in just a few minutes!”

“Thank you!” she called back to him, and he just nodded as he bustled to where they were serving food. Annette made her way to the line, filing in at least six people behind where Felix and Sylvain and Ingrid stood and, for all appearances, bickered. 

She hoped Ingrid put them in their places, since she got the feeling that the lady knight knew the best ways to do so. Felix deserved it for teasing her, and she was sure Sylvain deserved it, too. Annette didn’t know Sylvain very well, or really at all, but within a few hours of being in his company she knew enough to be certain of that.

The line, for as long as it was, moved fairly quickly and Annette was soon finding a small spot in the corner of the mess tent, where some crates were  haphazardly stacked as a table and seating. She hoped that Mercie would see her when she came back, and that they could take a moment to eat together. She was supposed to be done helping by now, but Annette knew that Mercie would keep doing what she could to help out, especially where taking care of others was concerned.

It wasn’t too long before Mercedes joined her, and Annette managed to convince her to leave the tent as the midday rush died down, even though she wanted to stay and help clean. The others insisted that she leave with Annette, so they found themselves walking back towards the tent they now shared. Annette used what little time she’d have Mercedes to herself in order to ask a few questions concerning the small skills test that the prince and his officers wanted her to go through later that afternoon. 

Though Felix and Mercedes had vouched for her skill, they still wanted to see it, and she didn’t quite blame them.

Mercedes assured her that she would be fine, and she wanted to believe her. They hadn’t seen each other in several years, since the war had broken out, nor had they been able to keep in touch with each other as well as either would have liked, but Mercie was still her best friend. If she told Annette she would be fine, then she believed it, but Annette still had doubts of her own. What if she was rusty? What if they quizzed her on theories that she’d forgotten? What if they expected her to be better than she was, with all the time that had been squandered when her uncle was preventing her from studying and furthering her craft?

“Whatever you’re thinking, Annie, stop it.”

She jumped at Mercedes’ voice, and she belatedly realized they were inside their shared tent. “I’m not thinking anything, Mercie, so there’s nothing to stop!”

“I told you, three times since we finished lunch mind you, that you will be fine. I  _ mean  _ it, Annie.”

She swallowed back all of her doubts and just said, “Thanks for believing in me Mercie.”

“You’ll be just fine,” Mercedes sounded absolutely assured of this. “Now sit down right there, and let’s share a treat I’ve been saving.”

From in her modest traveling chest, Mercedes retrieved a small parcel, and once unfolded, she snapped off a piece of chocolate for Annette and another for herself. 

“Mercie!”

“Now have some chocolate and relax,” she smiled softly. “I’ll be going with you, after all. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Annette still had plenty to worry about, she thought, but she kept it mostly to herself.

But of course, just as Mercedes had told her, everything went quite smoothly when she went to the designated meeting place with Mercedes. They took her to a small clearing where it was obvious they had been doing magic and military exercises during their time encamped here, and she was asked to perform spells starting from her simplest to her strongest, and to inform them where her particular strengths were. 

The whole time he observed, the prince had a shadow that looked like her father. However, from the moment she glanced at him after a pretty exceptional fire spell even for her and he didn’t even look away from her target, not even once the stump had been extinguished by an observer’s ice spell, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about him or his presence.

There would be other days, hopefully, to address it.

“Excellent control,” Manuela complimented her, after the final spell they had her cast. “Not that I would ever doubt Mercedes, but after seeing  _ that _ I can fully believe you graduated at the top of your class. It’s a shame you were never able to attend the academy...though it wouldn’t have really been a full term.”

A tall, thin man that Annette had only been introduced to nodded. This was their resident black magic officer, Hanneman, and she took it to understand that he, too, had been a professor at Garreg Mach. “For once, I must say I agree with Manuela. Miss Dominic, I’ve rarely seen such control, especially over the wind.” He stroked his goatee. “I would have enjoyed having you in class, short though your time at Garreg Mach would have been. I’m sure you would have had many scholarship offers, if you had only tried.”

“She did,” Mercedes interjected, tone clipped. “Her guardian denied her entry.”

“ _ And _ somehow convinced her that her skills were all booksmarts and wouldn’t be of use on the field.”

At first, Annette was surprised at how much of their conversations that Felix recalled, and then she was flattered. He wasn’t much for talking, but it appeared that he was as diligent at observing what people said as what they did. And he sounded just as bitter about her uncle denying her the right to go to Garreg Mach and the Officer’s Academy or joining the army as she herself was, which made something warm spread from the pit of her stomach. She offered him a fleeting smile when their eyes met, and then turned to nod in acknowledgement of what he and Mercedes had told Hanneman.

“It’s true I did get offered scholarships, and that my uncle refused them.”

He suspected something would go wrong based on tensions between nations, or wanted Annette to be more prepared to take over the family estate and marry someone who would settle military affairs? Either were viable reasons he could have denied her chance to attend Garreg Mach, and he’d told her several other reasons besides. In the end it all stemmed from his notions of keeping her safe.

“A damn fool,” Ingrid scoffed. “Do you need to see any more than this, Your Highness?” she looked over. 

“For myself, I am quite convinced,” he chuckled. “I have been urged to ask, however, if you can handle any kind of physical weapon?” 

Byleth, to his right, nodded softly. “Some battles can be long, and we like to see to it that our mages have another form of protection should their magic be exhausted.”

Annette swallowed. This had been a little beyond her expectations, but she nodded hesitantly. “It’s...been a while since I learned, but I did once go through the basics with an axe.” 

At this, Byleth asked that the stoic Dedue be her temporary partner. She wanted to observe Annette’s form, and have Dedue, who used an axe himself, do the same. Annette knew her skills were pretty shoddy, as she’d barely done more than split wood with an axe these last few months, but she did as she was asked.

By the end, Byleth and Dedue had deemed her  _ clumsy but passable _ , though in different words. Kinder words, in Byleth’s case, and a simple, “It will do,” in Dedue’s, as well as an offer to practice should she wish.

She didn’t really want to practice, but she thanked him all the same and told herself she’d have to take him up on it at least  _ once _ . It wouldn’t hurt to be better at that, too, especially since the armor that most mages used on the battlefield was hardly much protection against more than arrows and long distance spells. It would be beneficial to have the skill to get an axe up even just to defend herself with, should someone surprise her when she needed to catch her breath.

At that point, the prince and the others thanked her for her demonstration of skill, then informed her that they would need to discuss to decide which unit she’d belong to. She could be anywhere from a mage on the back line to protect their healers and retreating injured, to somewhere in the middle casting long-distance spells, to one of the few mages taken along on the front lines, and she had no way of knowing which. It was something they all had to discuss, and she’d just have to wait.

“Annette, do you have a moment?”

She yelped and turned around at the voice, to find Felix standing there. He arched a dark brow in amusement and she groaned. “Do you have to tease me  _ right now _ ?” she demanded, stamping her foot halfheartedly.

“Yes,” he answered simply, then glanced over her shoulder, where she heard Mercedes talking with Manuela and Hanneman. “Annette, I...could we talk, later?”

She blinked. “Talk? About what?”

The worst flashed through her mind. Did he really think she wasn’t fit to be part of the army, after all? Did he want to tell them about the imperials that thought she was a bladesinger? Was he going to insult her skills with an axe, or even her magic skills, and tell her something about how she was better at magic when her hands were bound, or that she swung her axe as though she were blindfolded?

“Not talk,” he amended, then appeared to struggle to find the right words. He averted his gaze and his cheeks, if she wasn’t mistaken, started to flush darker. “Rather...could you...sing for me again? Later?”

“You want me...to sing for you,” she said slowly, “ _ again _ .”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he murmured, looking away, and she felt her heart skip a beat. 

“You’ll owe me a piece of cake, whenever we can get one,” she forced out, momentarily stunning herself. But then she looked at his profile again, and then his full face when he turned to her, slightly surprised, and felt herself flush a little. Annette  _ knew _ exactly why she’d agreed so easily, now. She averted her own eyes in turn.

After an achingly long moment, Felix cleared his throat. “Just  _ one _ piece? Not stacks?”

“Fe _ lix _ ,” she groaned, and the soft chuckle it coaxed from him was well worth it.

She sang for him later that night. And a few nights later, after a day of packing up to continue the march early the following morning. Some tents were already down, the occupants choosing to sleep in their bedrolls on the ground, but most would wake up with the horns the following morning, spend the first hour as the sun rose packing up and eating, then they would be on their way. 

And then the Kingdom Army was on its way, continuing its march towards the capital city of Fhirdiad, in the hope that they would be able to wrest it back from the grasp of the Empire. Although Annette was nervous, she also found herself eager. Eager to fight for her country, to prove herself and prove her uncle wrong, and do her part to help. Back in Rahl, she’d been unable to do any of those things, aside from helping the women and children and the elderly left behind. 

As they prepared to march, she received an unexpected visit from Sylvain and Felix, to deliver her official orders. 

She’d been officially accepted as a mage– nay , a  _ gremory _ –in service of The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Her heart nearly stopped, and she gaped momentarily at the letter, the orders, in her hand. 

“ _ Gremory _ ? But my healing magic is–”

“I believe it says  _ ‘sufficient to be of great aid in emergencies, and lessen life-threatening injuries _ ’ in the orders,” Sylvain chirped, cheerfully. “Manuela approved that much herself, you know. And she and Mercedes are the top healers we have and everyone  _ knows _ Mercedes would vouch for you, so that’s a pretty great set of commendations there. It’s all His Highness and the Professor–I mean General–needed to see.” 

“Your black magic skills were never a question, though,” Felix added,  gruffly , and Sylvain laughed.

“He’s right, he’s right! In fact, they nearly forgot they had to mention them. But the little test Manuela gave you yesterday was the gremory certification exam, and you apparently passed with flying colors even though you didn’t know what it was you were studying for, so here we are!”

The medal that would signal her ranking rolled into her hand, and the metal was cool to the touch but she felt like it burned through her glove. She’d had her mage certification exam before leaving the School of Sorcery, and that’s all she’d expected. Maybe a bit of a bump up to a warlock ranking, if she was lucky. But to be promoted straight to a gremory with very little practical experience was something nearly unheard of.

“Are they sure they won’t regret it?” she asked, flipping the badge in her hand. “I mean, are they sure I deserve it? Did they grade the exam wrong? Did–”

She yelped when a gloved hand gripped her shoulder firmly, and looked up to find Felix shaking his head and snorting.

“Annette, you  _ deserve _ it,” he said in a tone that brooked no arguments. “It would be foolish to give someone a certification they don’t deserve, and Byleth wouldn’t abide by it.”

Sylvain blinked, and then dropped his hand on her other shoulder. “See? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Felix be so damn  _ nice _ to anyone, but he’s right. We  _ all _ saw your practical little examination didn’t we? You can trust that they wouldn’t make a mistake like that where you’re concerned.”

His hand dropped sooner than Felix’s, and when Felix gave one more squeeze and dropped his hand, she missed the weight on her shoulder, but nodded slightly, flushed, and turned back to the orders. Once she passed her role and rank, she’d find out where she was assigned and which officer she was to report to.

She hadn’t known much about the way it worked, but Ashe and Mercedes and even Ingrid had explained a little to her at dinner the night after her practical test. 

And then she found it. Annette was assigned to a group that was under Sylvain’s command, to her surprise, so it was no wonder that he had come to personally deliver her appointment documents even in the midst of preparations to march. He led a  flanking unit primarily made up of cavalry units, but as he himself was a dark knight he had mages in his unit too. She’d been a little surprised to learn the certifications he held, especially the knowledge that he’d also acquired a wyvern rider certification and had been injured when his wyvern was killed in a battle near the beginning of the war. He’d then returned to hoisting his family’s twisted relic, the Lance of Ruin, as a dark knight. 

Sylvain’s unit was one of their primary forces, too. She’d be thrown into the thick of things potentially a little faster than expected, as one of the battalions under his command. When a  pincer was called for, most of their mounted units would head forward, and the highest ranking mage would step forward to the command position in the absence of their officer, and Sylvain assured her that the lead, a warlock named Ysolde, was amiable and capable and would be happy to help her get used to things whenever was necessary. She hadn’t been available to join in delivering her orders, but he said that they would arrange a meeting during the march today, somehow.

“Y-yessir,” she said, experimentally, and Sylvain laughed again.

“Thattagirl!” he gave her a thumbs up. “Don’t stress yourself out. When you get a chance to talk to Ysolde, I’m sure she’ll help you out. She’s dealt with a lot, in the war and before. She’ll take care of you!”

“Annette doesn’t need anyone to take care of her,” Felix scoffed. “She’ll definitely set you straight and help you learn the ropes, though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, we’ve got to go see His Highness for a quick little meeting before we set off, so we’ll leave you to your preparations! We’ll definitely talk more about your orders later, especially if you have any questions or concerns!”

Felix elbowed Sylvain, then turned to Annette. “Take care,” he said, almost softly, before he turned abruptly to follow Sylvain back through the quickly disappearing camp, likely towards the prince.

“You, too,” she raised her free hand, still lightly clutching her gremory medal in it, to his retreating back, then shook her head and flushed, turned to finish helping Mercedes. Her friend smiled, teased her knowingly but without directly stating anything, and they managed to  stow the tent in the supply wagon with Manuela’s and the medical supplies before the warning horn for impending march.

She was still becoming accustomed to what it meant to be a soldier, to  _ fight _ in a war, but this was a decision she’d made for herself. One she would have made a long time ago, had her uncle not prevented her from doing so. When she thought about the stakes, or when it made her feel weak in the knees, she sent a silent prayer to the goddess. And as they began to march again, she tried to hold her head high even when the faces of the bandits she’d dispatched on the way here flicked through her mind. And again when her mind supplied unrecognizable faces, soldiers wearing imperial colors.

Life was precious. She knew that and she had  _ known _ that for years. But there was so much more than her at stake, and it was a  _ war _ . She had to get over that, no matter how hard it was or how long it would stick with her.

Something Felix had said to her in their travels together prior to reuniting with the army had remained with her, though.

_ They were unlucky to pick a fight with us, thinking that lone travelers would be more vulnerable. But we were also lucky they picked a fight with us instead of finding the nearest homestead, where there might have only been women and children awaiting them. _

It was probably more than he’d said in most conversations, but it had been comforting. Especially considering that it was  _ Felix _ who said it, and by that time Annette had been sitting awake for an hour after a rather vivid dream, mayhaps a nightmare, about the ghosts of the dead haunting her. He’d also murmured something extra about a  boar , but she had forgotten the specifics of that particular comment.

In the end, everything he had said that night boiled down to the fact that she had to fight for what she believed in, and that taking lives there, or on the battlefield, meant that she may very well be saving the lives of others down the road. She couldn’t look for the good in everyone she had to face if she wanted to maintain her sanity.

_ Never forget, but keep moving forward. _

She’d hold his words close, since she wasn’t likely to get better advice than that. And besides, she’d heard that there was like to be at least one battle before they reached Fhirdiad. Annette was trying desperately to steel herself for her first large-scale skirmish on top of only recently putting her magical talents to use in actual conflict. 

Annette found herself thinking it would be easier if she got to be next to Felix in the fights. If he was, she’d know that he’d watch her back, and she would do anything to watch his. The thought was foolish and fleeting and, additionally, made her flush. She was only thankful that she was alone with her thoughts, or at least that no one else was paying attention to her, so she could take a deep breath and force herself to focus.

The march started not long after, and she was able to funnel her thoughts down more productive paths, and away from a stoic swordsman that inexplicably liked the sound of her voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading again!
> 
> I...might have underestimated when I said there were 3-4 chapters left. Mostly because I didn't realize where in my draft that the last chapter had ended. Let's just say it wasn't quite the halfway point...or as close to the halfway point as I'd thought. I can reasonably say this will have 10 chapters though! Maybe 12 defending on some chapter splits, and some edits I'm making to the final sequence of events!!!
> 
> Aaaaand...sorry I didn't get it out on Sunday or Monday, as planned. It's barely Tuesday still in my timezone and I've been trying not to post this fic in the wee hours of the night but I was making an exception for this chapter since it's already later than planned.
> 
> Look for Chapter 6 sometime this weekend! I'll try to get through my mental health struggle here and actually post this next one on schedule! (Also please note that Chapter 6 is cut a bit shorter than the others, unless I go in and make some more edits).
> 
> Thanks again for sticking around,and I hope you guys keep enjoying Silversong ! It's been a pleasure to write for the Felannie Mini Bang 2020 and it got out of hand haha.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending time with Felix was nice, though, and she looked forward to the next time almost before they’d parted ways. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! Here we are again! Updated update schedule will be in the end note for this chapter, so keep an eye out.
> 
> Gonna keep this pre-note short: Hope you guys are still with me, and hope you enjoy chapter 6 of Silversong! :D

Annette wasn’t sure when it had started, but it was at some point after their third night on the march toward Fhirdiad. There had been a small skirmish that had caught the healers in the flank and Annette, who had been assisting Mercedes and the others with some of the injured that were still able to travel, had helped to fend them off. Some time after, Felix had come to find her. He’d asked her to sing for him, again, with less nervousness than the previous times.

She’d agreed nearly instantly, acknowledging to herself that singing would help her to relax.

Since then, though usually not on consecutive nights, she and Felix would find each other, and find themselves outside of camp. They were always still close enough they could be found if someone needed them yet far enough to have a bit of privacy. At first, it started out with him asking her to sing, and then some nights they just gravitated to each other for the company. And when it was just the two of them, Annette was more likely to start singing on her own. She had taken to singing in camp some nights, softly and usually when she was walking from one place to another, but it was easier, somehow, with Felix at her side. 

When they started just gravitating towards each other, it was on evenings when Felix would be stepping out for a bit of private training, or when Felix would catch Annette on a stroll and fall in step with her. Annette would tag along with him if the former, and they would end up essentially patrolling a perimeter together even though neither was on duty were it the latter.

Other nights, the ones where she didn’t end up with Felix, she ended up having as much girl talk as she and Ingrid and Mercie could scrounge up in a camp full of soldiers. Ingrid was often busier, as a higher ranking officer and a diligent knight, but although she could be awkward Annette enjoyed it when she was able to join them. She loved her company, all the way up until Ingrid and Mercedes began to remark on how much time she’d been spending with Felix.

Spending time with Felix was nice, though, and she looked forward to the next time almost before they’d parted ways. 

This time had started much the same as some of their previous rendezvous, though–Felix had decided he would go out to train, and Annette had tagged along, claiming she needed fresh air. They’d been nearly two weeks on the road and were stalled by a vicious snowstorm that had everyone on edge, a week out of Fhirdiad. Any day now, they expected Imperial forces to have pushed their way through the storm to ambush the army whilst they were caught out.

Maybe she’d sought him out purely for the sense of comfort and protection his presence afforded her, and maybe he’d gone to train out of the restless need to do  _ something _ as he so often seemed to fall victim to. But it had been hours, now, and Annette still sat on the ground, in the clearing mostly free of snow from other soldiers tirelessly practicing, reading one of the books on reason magic that Hanneman had brought along. How he’d been able to manage retrieving books when Edelgard had targeted her own school and classmates, or rather the church at which they resided, as the first major act of her war, Annette would never understand.

She was thankful for it, nonetheless, as she’d been woefully short of reading materials, particularly of the magic education persuasion, for months.

She was startled out of her perusal when Felix slumped heavily to the ground next to her, sword surprisingly already sheathed at his side. Annette had expected him to be cleaning it, or something.

“Had enough of swinging your sword around?” she asked, sing-song, as he flopped down. Felix just sighed at her, and Annette giggled. “You could always brush up on your magic. I saw that sloppy Thoron from the last battle, you know!”

It  _ had _ been sloppy, but she’d also been caught completely off guard by it. He’d never really shown his affinity for black magic when they were traveling alone together, though he had allowed an errant mention of thunder spells at some point. He’d also used it when he rode to the aid of the healers when they had been flanked but four days prior, only two short days before the snowstorm had set in, and she’d been happy to see it, and backup that could do a little more with a blade than the mages she was surrounded by.

“Annette,” Felix groaned, and she just laughed again and flipped her page after a quick glance at him. She heard him shift a little next to her, and then let out a nearly exasperated sigh herself when he asked–well, more demanded, but it was a question in his own way, “I’m tired. Sing for me?”

Annette did like singing for Felix, though. She knew she still wasn’t singing as much these days as she did back when they were traveling to the army together, and she kind of missed it. Plus, Felix never really seemed to insult any of her nonsensical lyrics, or at least not intentionally, even if he was a big meanie about it sometimes. And he insisted that he liked hearing her voice, which made her feel all sorts of feelings she tried to repress. So she mentally noted what page she was on and sat her book aside, tucking it back in her back for protection. She moved slowly and projected more reluctance than she actually felt over singing for him.

“Well, what do you want to hear?”

“Anything,” he answered, shrugging. Then, after a pause, “ _ Everything _ .” 

The first statement,  _ anything _ , was the answer he pretty much always gave, unless she’d mentioned a new song that he hadn’t heard and he demanded to hear it. The one time she mentioned the teeth song had been a day she’d always regret, because it was something she and her mother had come up with when she was young and learning about cleaning her teeth, and Felix hadn’t given it up until she finally sang it for him. 

But requesting  _ everything _ was a bit new, and she blinked.

“Everything?”

“Anything is fine,” he said again, “but I’d like to hear everything.”

“That’s a lot of songs, Felix!”

“Hopefully we’ll have plenty of time for all of them, then.”

She thought her heart might stop, right there, when it skipped a beat. She felt the flush rising quickly, but a nearly nervous laugh tumbled from her lips and she reached up to nervously twirl a lock of hair around her finger.

“I hope so, too,” she murmured.

After a moment of silence, Felix prompted, “Annette?”

“Alright, alright, give me a moment,” she flapped her hand at him dismissively and started thinking, trying to sort her thoughts and funnel them  _ away _ from all the things she shouldn’t be wanting right now and towards the myriad of silly songs filed away in her mind.

Despite the five or six times they’d stepped aside like this in the last few weeks, it was still hard to decide what the best song to let him hear would be. He’d heard so many of them, but some of them had changed since the first time. Her songs and their lyrics were always evolving, after all. Would he want to hear them again, with all of their changes? He  _ said _ he wanted to hear all of her songs, but if she kept singing him her reworks, Annette wasn’t sure how long that would last.

He started shuffling beside her, so he was probably planning to lie down. He’d started doing it just a few nights previous, but it slowly seemed like it was becoming commonplace when he asked her to sing.

Felix was nothing if not full of surprises, though, and Annette was clumsy and easily startled, so she let out an embarrassing squeak when suddenly he shifted and there was a head on her lap.

“Let me lie here for a while,” he murmured, and if she wasn’t so mortified of the sound she’d let out herself she would have asked him if that splash of pink across his cheeks was a blush and tried to tease him for it when he clearly looked like he’d fight anyone who asked about it, with the way he avoided meeting her eyes.

Instead, she watched as he stayed there and his eyes drifted closed, and tried to figure out what she was supposed to do with her hands. Did she touch him? Did she just lean back in place, propping herself up on her hands? Did she keep them in the air? Should she brush his messy fringe, fallen from his ponytail, away from his face or let it be?

Should she think he was cute, like this? Or should she think he was a handsome warrior?

_ Annie, calm down, _ she told herself, taking a deep breath. She dropped one hand to the ground, and rested the other on her leg next to him, carefully. He cracked one eye open and glanced up at her.

“Aren’t you going to sing?”

“Yes!” she huffed, “I’m just thinking! Try asking me again, though, and you’ll just have to sing your own songs!”

“Think faster,” he groused, and on instinct she reached to tug at the ends of his hair, next to her fingers. She didn’t tug hard, but enough to be a warning, and he narrowed his one open eye at her and she returned the gesture by sticking out her tongue, before starting to hum. It was nonsensical, just her reaching around and trying to find a tune that felt right, but Felix allowed his eye to close again and murmured, “That’s the library song.”

It was, too.

So she went ahead and sang part of it, and transitioned easily into the office song. It was largely based off of her uncle’s study in the Dominic Manor, but Felix didn’t need to know that. It was similar to her professors’ offices at the School of Sorcery, too, so she figured that most offices and studies were the same.

After a while, and one of her more embarrassing nonsensical songs that made Felix crack an amused grin, Annette trailed off into a hum, and then stopped altogether. There was something she’d been wondering for a while, and maybe it was time to go ahead and get it off her chest. She stared across the clearing for a moment, at the little white and blue wildflowers across the ground, crumpled from snow and boots but still there, and then back to Felix.

“Annette…?” he asked, and when her gaze reached his face she realized that both of his eyes were open. She met his eyes and sucked in a slow breath that made his brow furrow in what might have been some kind of concern.

“You really don’t think my songs are too silly? You’re not going to tell everyone that somehow the Empire thinks I’m a bladesinger?”

“They’re a little silly,” he admitted. “But I like them.”

Annette cursed at him, mildly, and tugged at his hair again. “You’re a big meanie, Felix. How–”

“–and you  _ are  _ a bladesinger.” 

Felix interrupted her, and she lost all train of thought. Her only response was an ineloquent, “Wait. What?”

“You don’t even know it, but it’s been working on everything.”

“Excuse me?”

“Haven’t you heard the rumors?” he tilted his head, looking directly up at her. His eyes were serious, but Annette was flabbergasted. He thought...he thought she actually was a bladesinger? And hadn’t said anything?

“I-isn’t it just Manuela going around at night, without telling anyone?” she managed instead. It’s what she and Mercie had come up with, at any rate. Manuela wasn’t the strongest bladesinger in the war but she was one of the best that the Kingdom had, and one of the only ones that was on the road with them. Though the rumors didn’t mention venin enchantments that weren’t on weapons previously, some people had begun whispering about how their blades seemed keener, and that they’d taken them to the smiths and learned that there was, in fact, a fresh bladesong on them.

Felix narrowed his eyes a little, then slowly lifted himself into a sitting position. The spot where his head had been resting on her lap still felt warm, and she kind of wanted him to lie back down. It  _ was _ chilly, after all, and it looked like the brief six or so hour lull in the storm was about to end, but she swallowed and watched him nervously, her head slightly turned away out of embarrassment, instead of focusing on the loss of proximity. 

He turned to face her, face set in a serious and almost stern expression that made Annette want to shrink back, but then he rested his hand on her shoulder and said, “Annette, look at me.”

When he said it like that, she had to. So she brought her gaze back up to his, and watched as his amber eyes roved, examining her face.

“Remember that time in the woods, when the bandits caught us by surprise before we could set up camp?” He waited for an answer, so she nodded. 

“I thought you were going to die, when that barbarian attacked you,” she admitted softly, “but you sliced right through his axe.”

“Exactly.”

Annette blinked, and then scowled at him. “What does that have to do with anything? The bladesong on your sword was just better than his axe, or better than whatever song he might have had on it!”

“That’s the thing, Annette. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you that I have never had a bladesong on one of my swords until now. And even then, my sword was heavily damaged, and I shouldn’t have been able to even block that attack with it...but it cut right through the axe instead.”

“That doesn’t mean–”

“Now there’s one on every blade I own, but I’ve still never gone to a bladesinger, or permitted one in or around my tent. You’re the only person that’s been singing around me that constantly, and even the blacksmith has asked me where I found a bladesinger with a silversong so strong.”

“A  _ silversong _ ?” Annette shook her head, the thoughts whirling around in her mind and making her nearly dizzy with the sensation. “Now I know you’re crazy, Felix. There’s no way my silly little songs can do that! And if I could, you would’ve said something to the others by now!”

“I wouldn’t.”

“No one would hide a  _ silversong _ in the middle of a war.”

“Annette, you didn’t come here as a bladesinger,” Felix’s tone was a lot more gentle than she expected, and he caught her by surprise by reaching forward and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Annette’s entire face started to burn even as she watched him speak in disbelief. “You wanted to join because you’re a very capable mage, and I wanted to respect that.”

His fingers lingered against her cheek for a moment, before he seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled them away, his own face sporting spots of color high along his cheekbones. She missed the touch of his fingers, even though they were gloved, even more than the weight of his head in her lap.

“But if I...if I’m actually a bladesinger...a bladesinger with a  _ silversong _ …”

Then  _ what _ ? She shouldn’t be as good at magic as she was? Her songs wouldn’t be mocked so much? They wouldn’t be so  _ childish  _ in the first place? 

“Whatever you are, or might be, you’re still Annette, and you joined the army because of what you  _ knew _ you were good at. Does it matter what you  _ didn’t _ know?”

Annette spluttered a little, and leaned forward, grabbing fistfuls of his overcoat on instinct. “Felix, don’t you understand?” she shook him a little, and felt his hand close gently around her wrist. “If I am a bladesinger with a silversong of all things, wouldn’t you be punished for hiding it? Will  _ I _ be punished for hiding it, even though I didn’t know, or never believed it?”

“You didn’t know. If it comes down to it, I’ll take full responsibility.”

“That-Felix, that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” he shifted, his other hand coming up to wrap around her other wrist. “But if anyone wants to argue it, then I would take full responsibility anyway, because I knew and I didn’t tell you.”

She scowled, and released one fistful of his coat to slam her fist lightly against his chest. “Do you think I want you to get punished in my place? Felix, you  _ idiot _ , don’t you realize that in times of war most nations punish hiding bladesingers with  _ death _ ?!”

“I don’t care.”

She gaped at him, her mouth undoubtedly moving with no words coming out. Felix, after a few moments of watching her, sighed and released her wrists, instead reaching around. And then he startled her yet again by pulling her near, her forehead to his chest, and resting his chin atop her hair.

“Faerghus doesn’t punish people with death, for that,” he assured her.

“Don’t they, though?”

“Maybe a few hundred years ago, but no, they don’t. It’s punishable, but not by death. It’s the Empire that put that thought in your head. And it’s the Empire that would kill you for not speaking out and revealing yourself, even if you didn’t know.”

Her voice was smaller, slightly less angry than before. “Are you sure about that?”

He didn’t answer with words, but with an affirmative noise in his throat.

“I mean it,” she pursed her lips a little, pressing her forehead against him even tighter than he held her. She was suddenly finding it very hard to pull away to look up at him or even glare at him.

“I’m glad we met when we did,” he murmured instead.

Annette opened her mouth to say something, and then the implications sank in. She was in the middle of an arguably botched escape attempt from Imperials and the bandits that had attacked them when they first met nearly a month ago. Even if she’d been kept alive and forced to bladesing for them when she arrived in Enbarr or wherever her end destination had been, she probably would’ve been killed later. Executed, more like, as an example–all for keeping the fact that she was apparently a bladesinger a secret for all these years, and hiding herself from the war.

_ Did Uncle realize it _ ? She wondered, briefly, but she pushed the thought away for pondering at a later date. Annette opted, instead, to focus on Felix, the warmth of an arm around her and his chin atop her head.

_ I’m glad we met when we did _ , Felix had said. But the more the words replayed in her mind, the more Annette heard  _ I’m glad I saved you from that fate _ instead.

Too many people Felix knew had been lost to this damned war, example or otherwise.

Rather than protest, she felt her shoulders droop, and she answered softly, “I’m glad we met then, too.”

After a long pause, though not an uncomfortable one, Felix shifted and pulled away. Before Annette could panic and pull herself further away out of the realization of what had happened, she felt his fingers at her cheek. In one slow, exceedingly gentle motion, Felix brushed the hair she’d fidgeted with back away from her face, and when she silently yearned for him to tuck it behind her ear again Annette knew she had lost. 

What, exactly, she wasn’t absolutely sure, but certainly some of her sanity, to want something she shouldn’t at a time that wasn’t right for it...but also probably a piece, or more, of her heart.

“We should return to camp soon.”

His fingers lingered on her cheek for just a moment after he spoke, and then he let his hand fall to the cold ground, pushing himself to his feet before he turned to offer her assistance as well.

“Y-yes, you’re right.”

Her gloved fingers felt small when his own wrapped around them, and she let him help her to her feet. The warmth of his touch was sorely missed when her hand dropped back to her side and his hand returned to rest on the hilt of one of his swords, but she took a deep breath and stretched and pretended that it didn’t affect her.

There wasn’t much conversation as they picked their way the short distance through the snow drifts between the camp and the clearing, but perhaps that was for the best. Annette wasn’t sure what else she could say without giving away her thoughts, and Felix’s manner of conversation was usually more brusque. He was probably at his limit for heartfelt and tender conversations for the day.

Annette did hum softly, one of her many songs about snow, and wished that they did not have to part ways to check in with their various comrades once they had slipped back into the field of tents.

She returned to Mercedes and her knowing, amused grins, and Felix probably went to find Ingrid, or Sylvain, or even the prince. When her thoughts trailed too much towards Felix, her face would flush, and Mercedes would pull her back with a gentle tease as she prepared tea for the two of them. She gently prodded Annette for information, and for the first time Annette felt that she needed to talk about  _ something _ more than just admitting to Mercedes and Ingrid that she found Felix an incredibly handsome, attractive man. 

There was much on her mind, but she pacified Mercedes with a nervous, embarrassed admission of affections she had been denying. The older woman had known, of course, as she always did, but she was pleased to hear Annette admit as much out loud. 

For the time being, she kept Felix’s soft endorsement of her talent as a bladesinger to herself. And just like that, she spent the rest of her evening, before she turned in early for warmth and for the ability to drag herself from her bedroll when it came time for her early shift at watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND HERE WE ARE.
> 
> To no one's surprise, Felix believes Annette's a bladesinger?! What a concept! But he doesn't CARE about that and just likes her voice? W H A T? no waaaaaaaay. [read as sarcasm].
> 
> Anyway, thank you guys so much for still reading and being with me here and I hope you're enjoying it so far! I'm a sucker for long chapters, mutual pining, and slow burn, so I hope someone else out there is as much of a sucker for those as I am because that's what we're here for!
> 
> Updates information: Instead of the twice weekly updates I've been attempting, I'm going to step back and just do weekend updates to the end unless I get antsy and just want to throw stuff at you. I've got a couple scenes in the last chapter or two that I'm reworking a little because I want them to be PERFECT so I wanted to give myself a liiiiittle bit of time for that. I can't wait to share it with you guys #sobbing. ADDITIONALLY, I'm thinking that Silversong will be roughly 10 chapters, but I can't bring myself to commit to that because if anyone ever reads or has read my old ML fic "Tikki's New Friend" you'll see my author's notes being like "this will be 3 chapters" then "hahahah well uhhhh you'll get 5 chapters" and "guys I swear it will just be 8" and then "a;sdfjkjdfsa;lfj it's gonna be 10 but that's ALL" so I don't like to commit until I have the end exactly how I want it LOL
> 
> Thanks again! Give my partner some love for the banner she gave us and the piece we have waiting in the wings!
> 
> Stay safe out there - wear your mask, wash your hands, and do whatever else.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how prepared she thought she was, this was definitely going to be an entirely different kind of experience. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAND HERE WE ARE.
> 
> A slightly on the short end chapter here, but the next few are probably going to be a liiiiiittle hefty so...yeah.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy it!

It snowed again the following day, a vicious blizzard that passed as quickly as it had come, and there were whispers of sorcery afoot to keep them in place. The threat of the Empire sending a force to strike them while they were mostly immobile as a whole seemed greater the longer they were forced to stall. Some of the rowdier, younger soldiers clamored to have mages use fire spells to clear their bath to Fhirdiad, and although Annette could think of numerous reasons that would be a foolhardy endeavor, she was thankful that she didn’t have to utter them aloud. The officers, at least, seemed just as aware of that fact as she was.

The younger soldiers clearly didn’t know enough about black magic, or magic in general. It wasn’t an entirely unlimited resource, after all, and what they were suggesting wasn’t feasible. Continued use of spells was very nearly impossible for most mages, and rest was absolutely necessary once they’d exhausted their magic reserves.

Even Dimitri, the prince, had spoken against the idea. The muttering, which grew more and more ludicrous by the hour, wasn’t quite quelled by the fact that their king-to-be had issued staunch refusals to the wild plans. 

“They’re just anxious to continue moving,” Mercedes said sagely of it, and ignored the comments. Annette wished she could be so calm, but she was also getting nervous.

Cornelia’s spies were everywhere, so they undoubtedly knew that the Kingdom Army was marching on Fhirdiad. There was no way that she hadn’t alerted Edelgard, and no way of knowing what the Emperor’s response would be. Would she leave it to Cornelia, or would she send reinforcements? 

The general consensus among the officers seemed to be that the Emperor would probably send reinforcements. Fhirdiad was a stronghold in Faerghus for the Adrestian Empire, and one they could scarce afford to lose. Annette was only privy to this knowledge because she was friends with Mercedes and Mercedes shared most news with Annette, as a best friend was wont to do. Unless that friend was Annette, she mused dourly, who was sitting nervously on Felix’s beliefs that she was a bladesinger without breathing word to another soul.

To keep herself from feeling guilty over it, or as guilt-free as someone as anxious as Annette could possibly be, Annette busied herself helping out however she could around camp. She wasn’t allowed to help cook anymore, after one very disastrous evening somehow salvaged by Dedue, Mercie, and Ashe all working in tandem with the other frazzled cooks, but she helped serve meals and took an extra shift at watch.

She saw Felix in passing, always busy with the troops in his command and looking more and more ready to blow off steam each time. Felix had once told her somewhere on their journey together that he wasn’t great at dealing with people, nor was he a fan of it, and it only became more apparent with time. It amused her, a little, but also made her feel sorry for him. If it were something she could reasonably do, she would’ve slid him an extra kebob at dinner, but they were rationing and it wouldn’t do to show favoritism.

Even the prince refused to eat anything different than what his men would be, and it had endeared him to many.

Since she couldn’t treat him to extra or anything right now, whenever Annette saw Felix she gave him a smile or a grin and hoped it helped him in some way. Her mother had always told her to share her cheer, and Mercie told her sometimes that a cheerful and optimistic outlook was good to have around. She thought that should go doubly for Felix, since he was always so surly on his own.

Later that night, after her double watch and a nearly depressing lack of time spent with Felix, she returned to the tent she shared with Mercie and collapsed into her bedroll completely spent, another day behind them.

* * *

It was early the next morning when a messenger, a retainer to the prince, came to rouse Mercedes and take her to an urgent meeting. Light wasn’t even beginning to streak across the sky, and a quick glance at a timepiece assured her that it was only around the fourth hour of the day. Annette could have returned to her slumber, still worn out from her double watch the day before, but she rose and readied herself as Mercedes did. 

“You can go back to sleep, Annie.”

“I could,” she hummed, snuggling into the warmth of her cloak. “I’ll see you when you get back from the meeting, Mercie!”

She sat back on her bedroll and tugged one of her covers back over her legs and one of Hanneman’s books on magic into her lap, flipping open to the marked page. She heard Mercedes sigh affectionately, but she didn’t argue.

“Alright, Annie. We can get something to eat when I get back, then.”

Annette agreed, and started flipping idly through the book in her lap as the flap of the tent brushed aside, allowing the frigid air of the early morning in. The book was another that Hanneman had lent her, and one of the few she hadn’t already exhausted in just a few weeks, despite her friend scolding her to sleep earlier some nights to prepare for the march. 

Once she was sure Mercedes was gone, Annette flipped back to the section she’d found the night before, shortly before her double shift, and allowed herself to reread the short introduction to the topic. It was a section she wasn’t sure she wanted to read and yet felt irreversibly inclined to do so all the same. So she closed her eyes and sucked in a soft breath to prepare herself, and then looked back down at the book.

The chapter was short, but it was about the phenomenon of bladesinging in those who already had strong prowess with black magics. The very first line read, “ _ Although it is uncommon for one skilled in magic to also be an accomplished bladesinger, it is not yet as rare as legends would have one believe. _ ” 

It made her heart race, and loathe as she was to admit it, the idea that her old childhood dream of being a bladesinger wasn’t actually a dream anymore was tantalizing and terrifying all at once. Having a dream she’d long given up on at her fingertips once more was confusing, but she wanted to know more.

So she read the information in front of her, however brief. It implied that those skilled with reason magic often made blades much more durable when they were also capable of bladesinging. Some were capable of singing a levin enchantment into the blade, and yet others making it keen past the point of merely deadly. It fit well with Felix’s conviction that it was her bladesong–her  _ silversong _ –that had saved them shortly before they’d reunited with the main force. 

Annette had just finished reading the segment a second time through when the tent flap opened abruptly. It sent a swirl of the cold morning air into the room again and Annette yelped as she pulled instinctively away from the chill. The book tumbled from her lap, falling pages down against her bedroll as she shivered from the air.

“We must eat quickly, unfortunately,” Mercedes said, her voice tight, and Annette scrambled to close the book and sat it aside. She tossed her cover aside and hurried to her feet, brow furrowed and mind racing.

“What news?” she asked, nearly breathlessly, as she worked on lacing up her boots.

“Reinforcements from the Empire.”

“So quickly?” Annette gasped. “But how will they make it through the snow?”

“They’re using magic constructs and dark magic to clear the way, and have split forces. One force is heading for us in tandem with a smaller force that comes this way from the capital, and they may all reach us as early as tomorrow morning.” Annette jerked her attention to Mercedes, her hands fumbling with her laces, and saw the older woman rapidly shuffling for supplies. She was preparing her medical kit, or adding extras to it. “The other half of the Imperial reinforcements has passed us, heading to Fhirdiad to bolster their defenses, and is reported to be led by Emperor Edelgard herself.”

Annette’s chest tightened. “Wait...so the Emperor is going to be  _ in Fhirdiad _ ?”

“That’s what our sources have reported. The snow delayed them in delivering the message, so His Highness andByleth and Sir Gilbert–” she faltered as her eyes flicked to Annette, who choked back any comment at the false name that the man who was undoubtedly her father had adopted, and Mercedes took a breath and continued. “His Highness believes that there is a chance that Edelgard could have turned and headed for us as well.”

“When are they alerting everyone else?” Annette hurriedly rushed to finish with her bootlaces, then turned to collect her pack. “And what’s the plan for keeping them away from camp? Are we packing up all but a field hospital, or just going to fan out around it?”

It wasn’t a highly defensible position, and the snow was about their best natural protection. If the Empire’s constructs were making simple work of that, though...they didn’t have much to work with. There were pros and cons to the enemy forcing their way through, though, so Annette wondered about how they could use it to their own advantage. If time was of the essence, though, perhaps packing up the camp would be too much work, or expend energy that their forces needed to save.

“They’re going to divide up the work and preparations,” Mercedes reached for another roll of bandages, even though her bag was fit to burst already. “By sectors, they’ll have soldiers break camp, while the others are making defensive preparations. But...the others will have more information on that. We’ll set up the field hospital near a ridge, in the edge of the forest. I’ll be heading there to assist in clearing it out.”

“What about me?”

“The preparations are in your battalions, so you’ll need to find Sylvain and Ysolde for further information.”

Mercedes seemed a bit harried, and Annette didn’t want to pressure her. It was still abrupt, even if they had all been anticipating some kind of imperial interference before they reached the capital city herself. They’d expected at least two or three days’ warning, but one? She understood why her friend seemed so on edge. So instead of pressing for more, she nodded and shed her cloak in order to don the lightweight and flexible armor she  _ could _ wear as a gremory beneath her robes , and Mercedes excused herself to go grab something light for them to eat.

The healer had scarcely returned with bread and some dried fruit when the horns finally sounded. Two bellows, which signified that everyone should rise and prepare quickly, and seek their commander or officer for orders. In Annette’s case, either Ysolde or Sylvain would do. She had no belongings really to speak of and they were already prepared for if and when she needed to toss them into a cart, so once they’d eaten she excused herself.

It was still freezing cold outside, and barely light, but she tugged her cloak more tightly around herself and set out. Annette searched for Ysolde first, figuring that most of the unit would have defaulted to Sylvain, but even after asking around some she wasn’t successful. She was about to give up and look for Sylvain when she, quite literally, ran into Ingrid.

“Oh, Annette, I’m sorry I wasn’t looking!” the other woman said, though her tone was a bit sharper than she knew was intended. Everyone was even more on edge, today. They felt cornered, and Annette could understand.

“I’m sorry, neither was I!” 

“Oh, if you’re looking for Sylvain, he’s over that way–and with Ysolde,” she pointed back the way she had come. “I wish there was more time, but I still have to find some members of my pegasus battalion.”

“I-I understand!” Annette was forced to call out to her retreating back, at this point. “Thank you!”

Ingrid raised a gauntleted hand, but didn’t turn. Annette turned to follow her instructions, and found Ysolde and Sylvain in conversation with Ysolde’s second, Hiro. As she approached, she saw Hiro nod, lift an arm across his chest in salute, and head off towards the tents beyond.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Annette forced out quickly, before they had turned and resumed their conversation. “I’m here for orders!”

Sylvain blinked, then offered her a tight grin. Even the seemingly unflappable  _ Sylvain _ was out of sorts, and Annette shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other and tried to dismiss the worrisome thoughts that followed . The redheaded man gestured widely between himself and Ysolde and announced, “Then you’ve come to the right place!”

“Ah, Miss Dominic,” Ysolde nodded, flipping through the papers in her hands, “There you are.”

“Please, just Annette.”

Ysolde hummed, in the way that Annette knew meant she only half heard, and stopped her perusal of documents to point, showing Sylvain. “Here, sir. Do you want us to assign Miss Annette to this detail?”

Sylvain leaned over and skimmed, then glanced to Annette. She made a nervous effort to stand straighter, and he snorted softly and then looked back at the documents. “No, she’s one of our stronger mages. I want Annette to preserve her strength for the battle ahead. Instead of having her join the unit digging the perimeter, we’ll put her on the unit that’s assisting with watches and patrols.”

“Very well, sir,” Ysolde marked it off as another member of Sylvain’s battalion, his second in command of the cavalry, a man named Boris, stepped up. “Annette, when Boris heads back to his unit, you’ll go with him. He’s in charge of the patrol unit currently.”

The man blinked, then reached forward to clap Annette a bit roughly on the shoulder. “Ah, our newest recruit’s gonna be patrollin’ with us? Hope ye got a keen eye, lass,” he nodded sagely, then turned to Sylvain. “Sir, I’ve given the orders to the others and have them gatherin’ up. Anyone else you wanna add to our rotation?”

“No, that’s all,” Sylvain shook his head, then gently patted Annette’s shoulder. “Try not to be too stressed out, Annie, and don’t jump at shadows. We’ll send new orders when it’s time for duty rotation or to prepare for battle.”

“U-understood!”

She wished her voice had been steadier, but she offered a salute as well, and Sylvain nodded to her. She didn’t even argue with his use of the nickname that really only Mercie had ever used for her before. Now probably wasn’t the time, after all.

Boris finished their quick exchange as Annette stood aside and waited as patiently as possible, trying her best not to fidget, and then he motioned for her to follow him to the rendezvous point. 

* * *

The morn of the battle came swiftly, and despite knowing it was approaching it still managed to catch her by surprise.

They’d slept in shifts, and risen early, and then the combined Dukedom and Empire forces were spotted in the distance. The plain that the camp had been set upon was trampled and cleared of tents, filled instead with soldiers and small cookfires and whatever else they needed for preparation. The small field hospital was set in the forest’s edge, backed against a small bluff that was too steep for anyone to feasibly climb up or down. It didn’t give them room for retreat, but it also prevented an attack from behind. It was the best the Kingdom Army could manage on such short notice and it would have to suffice.

They wouldn’t–they  _ couldn’t _ – lose here.

Those words were easy to say, to  _ think _ , but when she was faced with the sheer numbers before her, she was fain to admit that she nearly faltered. Her heart skipped a beat, freezing in terror, and her pulse pounded in her ears. Facing three or four bandits hadn’t been as terrifying as the army standing across the field, amassing their forces slowly against the backdrop of bright white snow. Hulking above, though not moving forward any longer, were the magical constructs she’d heard about. She could see the metal gleaming in the sunlight, only made brighter by the way the sun glinted off the snow, and she swallowed. 

She hoped, maybe selfishly, that she wouldn’t  _ ever _ have to face down one of them.

But then, rising above her own fear was a steady voice. “Hold the line, men.”

Sylvain rode in front of his battalions, staring at the Imperial banner, but his voice rang clear. He looked back over, eyes roving the line. She would’ve sworn they locked gazes for a moment, even. 

“When His Highness gives the order, we will move. But until then, hold fast.”

Just from his tone, Annette would have known that Sylvain was a veteran of many battles. He had to be nervous–any man in his right mind, facing down soldiers that were approaching from two directions in numbers nearly equal to or exceeding their own, would be–but he bore it remarkably well. Not a tremor in his voice, nor open signs of conflict on his features. Annette did her best to draw strength from that, and convince herself it would be just like fighting off a few bandits.

A few well-armed and undoubtedly well-trained bandits, but bandits nonetheless. And, she assured herself, she wouldn’t be alone. Maybe the one person she  _ wanted _ at her side wouldn’t be there, but she wouldn’t be alone.

She hoped he’d be okay, though.

Before Annette realized what she was doing, as a stifling silence overtook the battalion around her aside from orders ringing through the ranks, she was nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. It was a ghostly imitation of what Felix had done just a few short evenings ago, and she felt her cheeks flush. The air was chill enough that she was sure others would think it was the cold, but she knew what had brought that heat to her cheeks and that was enough.

“Nervous?” came a murmur at her side, and she nearly jumped. Hiro chuckled under his breath and reached out to pat her on the shoulder. “I take that as a yes. I think we’re all like that, though, so I can’t fault you for it. Just follow orders and follow the battalion, and you should do just fine. That’s what I did, when I first joined up.”

He left out the fact that he was now the second leader in the mage unit under Sylvain’s command. He was hardly her age, so he probably hadn’t enlisted much before the start of the war, if he hadn’t joined in the midst. But she wasn’t surprised at all, as he seemed to have also attended the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad, prior to Cornelia seizing control of the capital in the name of the Empire.

“I’ll...do my best,” she managed, dropping her hand back to her side. She bumped the handle of the steel axe at her belt, felt the flat weight of its heavy blade through her layers against her leg, and tried to ground herself.

“That’s all we ask. That, and that you stay alive.”

“Not  _ funny _ , Hiro,” someone hissed from behind, and the woman kicked him lightly in the back of the knee. He stifled a chuckle and the woman, whose name Annette didn’t yet know, leaned to toll her, “We’re mages, so we stay back a bit. But we’re grouped with Sir Gautier and his cavalry because we’re  _ good _ mages that can also wield a weapon or two. We don’t  _ try _ to be on the front lines, but you’re here because they think you can hold your own on them if you get caught out. ”

She tapped the sword at her hilt, glanced pointedly to the lance that Hiro held lazily in the crook of his arm, then to the axe at Annette’s side. Annette was lost for words, so what tumbled embarrassingly from her lips was one soft, “Oh.”

“‘Oh’, she says,” the woman laughed, though not maliciously. “You must be pretty decent with an axe, to be lumped in with us. And I hear, from some of them that watched your little test, that you’re a damn sight as a mage. Can’t wait to see it myself, truth be told.”

Annette shook her head anxiously. “I-I really only know the basics, with the axe. I don’t know if that’s enough to say I can really use one.”

“Take it from us,” Hiro said, drumming his fingers idly along the shaft of his lance as he glanced back out across the way. The flags of the Imperial army had still only just risen above the horizon. “If you were placed in this battalion, you can use one. I know that, Vara here knows that, and soon enough you’ll realize it too. Whether you think you can or not, you’re here because you can use that axe.”

The woman behind him, Vara, nodded assuredly, and Annette swallowed.

“I’ll take your word for it, then.”

“Do just that,” Hiro reached out to pat her on the shoulder again. “Stand tall, newbie. You’ll be just fine.”

There was a rustling among the troops that made their conversation draw short, and Annette, after a moment of doing her best to peer around and over the heads of her peers, was informed that a messenger was passing through the lines. And then she saw Sylvain, tall on his steed far ahead of her, lean down, doubtless to receive the message. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath and earned herself a reassuring pat on the shoulder from the woman behind Hiro, and then opened her eyes once more.

No orders came directly, but at length Ysolde made her way through the ranks to Hiro and murmured something to him. He stood straighter and nodded, glanced around, and shifted his casual grip on his lance. Ysolde moved on, and Annette wished she’d caught more than whispered snatches of words she couldn’t make out. 

“We’ll be preparing to move out shortly,” he said, keeping his tone level but speaking so as not to alarm anyone. “As they say, the best defense is a good offense, and while we’ve lost out a bit on that initiative, they haven’t quite reached us yet. We, the mages in Sir Gautier’s command, will be split into two separate units.”

There was a brief flutter of questioning glances shared between before Hiro pressed on. “I will be leading the first, and Ysolde will be leading the second. The second, fifth, and sixth squads are with me.”

Annette was a member of Hiro’s own squad, the second, so it made sense that she would be joining him. She nodded when his eyes met hers, briefly, as he looked around at those around him. 

“When our battalion advances, we will proceed directly forward, as the left rear of Sir Gautier’s contingent, while Ysolde’s command will be skirting the edge of the field of battle to the right and making use of what cover the trees provide.”

_ Guerilla warfare _ , her mind supplied hazily. It was a tactic she had only read about, and didn’t expect it to show up here, even in some hybrid form.  Her heart beat quickly in her chest, her pulse pounding loudly in her ears, and Annette swallowed nervously. She would be going directly across the battlefield and into the fray in her first real battle. It didn’t matter that they would be at the rear of Sylvain’s unit, or that some of the infantry units would be ahead of them...there was little doubt that she would end up in the thick of it now.

No matter how prepared she thought she was, this was definitely going to be an entirely different kind of experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> And thank you guys for all of your comments and support! I hope to keep you engaged all the way until the very end of Silversong, which I know I've said before but it's not any less true than it was.
> 
> As always, I'm still so excited to share with you, and another shoutout to my partner Soulty! Can't wait to share more of what they've been working on with you! Please be safe, wear your masks, wash your hands, and take care of you and yours! And if you're in the USA and of age to vote, please make sure you're registered before whatever specific deadlines your state has! <3
> 
> And if all goes according to plan, I'll probably see you something like...oh, next Sunday? For chapter 8.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She could already feel the drain on her magic, and she knew that, were it not for the adrenaline coursing through her, her arms would ache fiercely from swinging her axe. 
> 
> She tried to ignore the red along its edge, and everywhere else besides. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND HERE'S CHAPTER 8!
> 
> Originally there was supposed to be more to this chapter, but I realized some things felt rushed, so I was trying to rework it, and then decided that here would be the best stopping point for it. So another chapter shorter than I prefer 'em, but which falls, from what my research tells me, within the normal wordcount for chapters.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy it!! :D

“Our first line is breached!” the shout reached her ears, and Annette’s pulse thudded loudly in her ears. They were still mostly in formation, charging forward as a unit with their cavalry counterparts in the lead, but they had yet to clash directly with the enemy surging towards them. There had been a battalion of infantry taking point on both sides, but at one point the Imperials had split and allowed a cavalry unit to barrel through. It was them, undoubtedly, that had so easily divided the first line of Kingdom defenses.

All Annette could see beyond the glistening armor, the various browns of leather, and the mass of the Kingdom army blue around her was the color red ahead. They had not directly met the Imperial troops yet, but it would not be long now.

“Hold fast!” she barely heard Sylvain’s voice rise above the din. “Riders, pierce through!”

Sylvain led the charge, raising a gleaming lance into the air before lowering it, leveling it at their enemies.

She stumbled over uneven terrain as the cavalry began to mingle with the soldiers in red, an unholy screeching of steel against steel and broken cries and shouts erupting even louder than those that had come before.

“Steady!” Hiro, ahead of her now, called. His voice wasn’t nearly so booming or carrying as Sylvain’s, but she heard him just the same. “Prepare yourselves!”

The first spell cast by their unit was Hiro himself, a thunder spell that downed a soldier on the spot and appeared to even shock the soldiers pressing forward next to the poor sod on the ground. There were infantry units between their own partial battalion and the enemy, but the line was thinner than she might have expected. They were fighting this battle on two fronts, though, so it couldn’t be helped. She tried to reign her thoughts in as Hiro followed his first spell with a fire spell. She had barely watched the men it was aimed for crumple, screaming, when Annette saw a gap form, red pushing through their thin barrier of blue, and an enemy was hefting a spear towards them. Towards  _ Hiro _ , specifically, as the most forward-facing spellcaster.

Annette called a warning and threw her arms up in front of her and out as she kicked up a wind almost before she could think.

Her spell was off, merely unbalancing the primary target, but he dropped his weapon and nearly fell and that was enough for Vara, already diving forward, to drive her sword home without using one of her own spells. Annette barely heard Hiro urging them forward, the feeling of magic tingling in her fingertips. Her body moved forward on instinct, following his words almost subconsciously, and she reached for the handle of the axe at her side as she readied another spell with one hand. 

The wall of red that loomed ahead had to fall here.

The battle raged. Annette lost all track of time, hardly daring a glance to see where the sun was in the sky for the enemies that surged around them. She could already feel the drain on her magic, and she knew that, were it not for the adrenaline coursing through her, her arms would ache fiercely from swinging her axe. 

She tried to ignore the red along its edge, and everywhere else besides.

Annette scarcely knew what direction to look, but she caught an occasional order on the wind, Hiro’s voice rising above the din of battle. He called for them to hold firm, or to advance, to watch their flanks, and Annette took his earlier advice. He said she’d be fine if she followed orders, and she did her best to stay in a position where she could hear most of them. Whenever battle drove her further away from him, she struck back to regain the lost position. But even when she was nearer, the screeching metal, the clashing of blades and armor and shields and the pressure of magic in the air–it rendered her efforts somewhat in vain. She still tried to hear above the cacophony, and focused on the enemies around her when she couldn’t.

Everything about a large scale battle was all so new to her that the entire experience was practically a whirlwind. But her magic still thrummed in her veins, nearly palpable, and enemies still stood between them and victory.

She turned to cast a cutting gale at a trio of enemy soldiers charging for her. Two fell nearly instantly, and she was certain that at least one of them would not rise again. One of the others in her unit, brawler’s gauntlets glistening with red, blasted the one that still stood with a well placed fireball. The woman nodded to Annette quickly before she dashed forward to physically punch an oncoming warrior in the face when he drew too near to an exposed mage. That mage was readying a nasty sagittae, which glowed brightly when he finally finished the spell and let it fly.

“-ette! Annette!” a breathless voice called. Annette, worried that she’d missed someone sneaking up, turned quickly with her axe ready to swing until she saw Hiro approaching. He came with four others from their unit in tow. Most of those behind him were from the squad directly under Hiro’s command, but one woman was the one they’d spoken with earlier, before the battle had begun. Hiro’s face was streaked with blood and she didn’t know whether it was his or not, but she didn’t have time to question it as the order came. “With me! We need to push through!”

_ Push through _ ? She thought, nearly hysteric.  _ Push through where? _

Seeming to sense her trepidation, though she still nodded slightly and had begun to follow, Hiro continued, “A small group of ours has been caught out and we need to break through to give them a way back!”

At this description, Annette scanned forward in the direction he’d gestured. It took several long moments, but then she spied the Faerghus colors, navy against the mud and blood and snow, surrounded but somehow managing to fend off what felt like a sea of red. Three mages fought, with the aid of one cavalier and a paladin. They’d all be completely overwhelmed soon if they weren’t supported, and fast.

“Yessir!” she finally answered, breathlessly, and nodded more firmly. 

“Let’s go. Follow me, watch our flanks, and pierce through!”

“Sir!” 

They charged. Hiro gave a few orders in rapidfire succession, and the mages in his command accommodated them. A fire spell flew out to their left flank, and a blizzard to their right. A lance fended an attack off, and an arrow sprouted from the attackers throat. It all happened so quickly that she nearly didn’t hear when Hiro called out for Annette to  _ clear the way _ , but she quickly swapped places and flung two quick wind spells in succession ahead of them. She wasn’t sure how many men went down, but a few scrambled up soon after. 

After a moment’s reprieve, cycling through another mage with a rather nasty fire spell, Annette ended up near the lead of the charge again. They were losing some of the momentum they had gained through surprise, and they needed something more for the push. Hiro’s orders indicated as much. She couldn’t charge forward with her axe and expect the results they needed, but she did have one spell she’d been saving, and Annette was already murmuring the incantation as quickly as possible. 

Before the warrior in front of her could bear down on her with the full force behind his venin axe, she unleashed one of her limited uses of  _ Excalibur _ . It was the strongest wind spell in her repertoire, and it took a lot out of her. She hoped it was the right choice to use it here.

She stumbled a bit as the wind buffeted her around, too, but she righted herself easily and swapped out as Hiro called for someone else to come forward with their lance and called, “Well done, Annette! Push forward!” 

He himself had cast a hasty thunder spell in front of them, lightning crackling in the air even as he thrust his lance out to sweep the flank. 

Their renewed charge surprised the enemy enough to give them a bit of headway, but fighting towards the others slowed once again. Annette acquired a few small scratches and had to heft her axe in her hands while she caught her breath, blocking a few lunges from enemy foot soldiers. She felt like the maneuvers were rusty and clumsy at best on her part, but she managed. Those around her supported her with spells and their own weapons, and they clashed in earnest with the enemy. 

“We’re nearly through!” Vara roared, her sword flashing as she cut down the brigand in front of her. “Keep it up!”

One of the others let out a battle cry that seemed to invigorate the rest. The number of red-clad soldiers between their small unit and the floundering speck of blue ahead had dwindled, but more seemed to materialize and fill their ranks once more. But, Annette realized rather belatedly, as they had struck forward they had also gained support.

The soldiers from the Kingdom army had bolstered their small group. The effort had helped some of the foundering front lines regain their footing. It gave her some sense of security as she stepped forward and used a sloppy fire spell to distract an enemy while a soldier stepped forward to finish the job with her lance. 

Hiro called out another order to press forward, and Annette grit her teeth. She was near the front of the charge again, somehow, in this skirmish that felt as though it had devolved, understandably, into absolute pandemonium. Mages in her group were rotating in and out to save spells and catch their breath and whatever else, and if it were any other group she thought they would have all been crushed by now. But it was her turn to do something again, and letting confusion rule her thoughts now could prove fatal.

She glanced around quickly and decided that a cutting gale seemed fitting. She aimed for a spot that she thought would give them the quickest route to the others, who had now seemed to notice them and were making an attempt, however feeble, to unite with them. 

The air twisted around her, biting and deadly, and Annette physically  _ threw _ the spell away from her, watching as the tangible blades of air and wind sliced through their enemies and felled no trifling number. Immediately around her, her allies roared and called to move on.

“Press the advantage!”

“Let’s go!”

Annette let out a cry, hoarse and nowhere near as intimidating as literally anyone else’s but a battle cry nonetheless, and stepped into the path she had helped carve. Their infantrymen surged forward even more quickly, however, piercing through, and then the cavalier ahead of them swept his lance and toppled the remaining line of red between them. Vara was there with her sword to make sure at least one stayed down, and Hiro and a few infantry followed suit. 

“Hiro!” one of the mages cried out, then stumbled. “We’re...low on spells, now,” he panted as the others formed a ring to allow them a moment of reprieve.

One of the mages that she had earlier seen fighting through the scores of enemies was in a heap on the ground, and Annette broke free of the defending circle to reach for them. She felt for a pulse and despaired for a moment before she finally felt it. It was weak, but there. 

“Can someone cover me so I can use a healing spell, to try and slow the bleeding?” she called, reaching for that particularly tricky pool of faith magic anyway. She was  _ here _ already, dammit, and she’d try to help even if her superior didn’t want her to. But she had to be sure she could get the spell off unhindered, or it could be two mages left here instead of one. 

“Do it quickly, Annette!” Hiro barked, then he gave another order to someone else that she didn’t pay attention to. 

This wound was about the same as Felix’s chest wound from a week or so ago, or whenever that had been. But it was deeper, and bleeding more, which she blamed on the lack of substantial armor that spellcasters could feasibly wear into battle. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fully close it, but she  _ had _ practiced a little since Felix’s injury and she was confident she could at least achieve her primary objective of slowing the bleeding. Annette took a slow breath, said a silent prayer to the goddess, and pressed her hands to the man’s chest. Warmth flowed from her own chest, down her arms, into her hands, and then a green glow spread from her palms to the wound beneath them.

_ So much blood _ , she thought, distantly,  _ he’s already lost so much _ .

“Annette!”

“I’m almost done!”

Her tone was pinched, she knew, but it was much harder to concentrate on faith magic on a battlefield than it was on reason, and her spell took longer to weave than any other spell she’d yet cast. The wound shrank beneath her ministrations, but as expected it did not fully close, but she pushed away, winded, and called, “I’ve done what I can for now!” as she quickly pushed herself to her feet. 

“Help him onto the horse,” Vara was next to her, leaning down to help lift the man. Annette scrambled to follow. “The cavalier’s wounded too, and Hiro’s ordered him to get at least to the first line of healers with our man.”

“Got it!” 

Annette was still winded, but she helped Vara heave the unconscious mage across the horse in front of the cavalier, and then hefted her axe again.

“Quick thinking, Annette,” Hiro clapped her on the shoulder, raising his voice to be heard above the clashing around. “Don’t wear yourself out too much with healing yet, though. We have to press onward–and there will be time for healing after!”

“Y-yessir!”

The Kingdom forces had taken their charge as a sign, and the blue had surged forward around them. It provided ample breathing room for the moment, but Annette knew they had to press forward.

There were many, many soldiers left ahead of them.

So they continued to fight, and Annette tried to wield her axe more than her spells for the time being, though either one was taking its toll. Until, at length, a shout rose up from those in front of them, only barely drowned out by the loud screeching of metal against metal.

Her heart sank when she saw a row of no less than four of those strange dark magic and metal constructs wading forward. They were spread across but proceeding apace, and she heard rallying cries. One voice in particular stood out to her, as she hadn’t seen Sylvain since he led the right flank’s cavalry charge into battle. But there he was, close enough that she could hear the tone of his voice over the din. And on the breeze, his cries carried.

“ _ Hold firm, men! _ ” she thought she pieced together. “ _ The bigger they are, the harder they fall! _ ”

There was a roar that rose above the din from those around him–a staunch battlecry of renewed vigor and restoration of faltering will. Annette found herself following along, with others among her unit around her, and preparing to face more of the red soldiers pushing towards them. 

Annette couldn’t help but think, though, that while Sylvain’s rousing bravado didn’t explain  _ how _ they were supposed to take one of these things down, there surely was some way. If she recalled correctly, they’d mentioned fighting one or two of them in the past, but she didn’t think they’d ever faced so many at once. The tales she’d heard had basically talked about bursting them down with superior numbers and might, which would work, but there had to be more to it. There had to be an easier way, or a weakness.

And...how did they even truly power these things?

Surely one mage apiece wasn’t enough. All magics had their limits, and that  _ included _ dark magic. Could they pinpoint and target dark mages in the ranks of soldiers? Her head swam just trying to pick them apart from the others. There was, of course, the armor that would give them away, but there were scores of enemies and not nearly enough time to sift through all the visual information she had received. 

Maybe one of the pegasus knights would have better eyes on the enemy and be able to pick them out better,or one of their wyvern units, but to ask them to come swooping into the fray and so near to the archers that could pluck them from the skies with a single well-placed arrow? She shuddered at the thought.

She didn’t have too much time to think about it, because they were pressing forward after a momentary respite, and her axe felt heavier in her hands with every step she took. The ground was sloppier, muddier,  _ redder _ than it had any right to be, and yet there was still much to be done.

After ten more minutes, with dark magic constructs looming ever closer, Annette realized with a start that their enemies were pulling back, just a little. And the longer she observed, the more she disliked the look of things. Her tactics classes in the academy had been limited compared to what she would have had at Garreg Mach, but she saw signs that she didn’t like, and looked around hurriedly.

_ Hiro. Where’s Hiro?! _

“H-Hiro!” she called out when she finally spotted him. The sudden shout made her cough, her voice raw, and the smoke in the air didn’t help. 

Her unit’s captain swept his lance and stepped back next to her, even while fighting. His voice sounded a bit pinched when he asked, “What is it?”

“Is the enemy pulling back?” she rushed out, casting a sharp wind with a quick snap of her wrist, her chest heaving as she hurried to breathlessly finish, “Aren’t they kiting us forward, so we have to engage those golems?!”

“Are they–” he started, then called quickly for her and Vara to cover him as he stepped back for a moment to observe. After a moment, with him behind her, she heard him curse. “Good eye, Annette,” he slid back into their line. “I hate to ask, but can you get that to a messenger, or somehow to Sylvain? I need to stay here to command.”

“Y-yessir!” she let a fire spell blast from her fingertips, the ghosts of burning pains trickling across her skin from the warmth. She still couldn’t shake the phantom feeling of burning her own palms raw to escape, all those weeks ago, but at least her palms were technically healed.

“Goddess be with you,” he breathed out, clapping her heavily on the shoulder. “If we get strung out now, fighting those damn constructs, the Empire will fall upon us! Now go, make sure the news reaches the officers!”

Annette nodded and turned, slipping back through the blue-garbed soldiers all around her and searching. Periodically, a pegasus or wyvern unit would descend a bit behind the front lines for the purposes of carrying messages, but her heart sank when she saw a wyvern take flight ahead of her. She tried in vain to wave it down, but when she went unnoticed, she turned to where she’d last seen Sylvain.

_ Hurry, hurry _ , she told herself, scanning the soldiers and battalions around her even as she ducked between soldiers behind the lines.  _ Find him quickly, now, Annie! _

After what seemed like far too long, her pulse sounding loudly in her ears, s he finally caught sight of him. More alarming was how his gestures made it appear that he was rallying his men for a charge forward. It was the  _ last _ thing she wanted him to do right now, and she shouted his name. No one paid any heed and she cursed under her breath.

When a red robed man intercepted her, preparing a fire spell in his hands, she thought little of swinging her axe. She had more important things to do, but she still felt ill at the vibration through the handle when her strike struck true. She yanked the axe free as the robed man crumpled in a heap and averted her gaze quickly. She hefted her axe again and continued running, trying to shout for her officer’s attention.

“ _ Sylvain _ !” 

She went unheard by the man himself, though a nearby cavalier noticed her and her intentions and maneuvered her horse to intercept an enemy warrior. In thanks, Annette staggered the red-garbed axeman with a haphazard wind spell, and continued. She heard his voice carry again, over the ruckus.

“ _ Together! With me! _ ”

His voice was clearer this time, though, and she was closer, so she raised her voice as much as she could muster and nearly roared, “ _ SYLVAIN! _ ” and after a cough, a few more stumbled steps and a breath, she added, “ _ A MESSAGE FROM HIRO! _ ”

She heard him keep speaking, and mentioned preparing to charge, and her heart sank– _ no, no, no, Sylvain _ – but then someone else near him called, “Sir Gautier! You’ve got a message from the mages!” and pointed towards her even as she turned and blasted a fortress knight with a close-range fire spell. Her fingertips tingled again, and she turned as Sylvain’s words cut off and he looked around.

When he spotted her, his eyes widened, then he commanded, “Tighten the perimeter! Watch our backs!” and she gasped when he leapt from his saddle. He ran to her, reaching out to steady her, and asked, “Annette, are you okay? What news of the mages?”

“W-we’re holding out, but Sylvain–the Empire’s trying to kite us!” she wheezed, her throat dry and in pain from shouting for him and inhaling the smoke in the air. “The troops are pulling back, trying to trick us and kite us into the golems!”

“They’re  _ what _ ,” he hissed, then called out sharply to his second cavalier, “Herrick, watch the enemy movements! What are they doing?!”

He turned back to Annette then, and she realized that he was waiting for more information. “I-Hiro said to get the news to the officers. If we get strung out–”

Sylvain let out a string of colorful swears and just then Herrick called out, “They appear to be pulling back to the-the magic sculptures, Sir Gautier!”

He startled Annette when he raised his voice, shouting, “ALL UNITS, HOLD THE LINE!!” and then, slightly less loud, “Merriam, flag down a pegasus knight!”

“Yessir!”

He turned back to Annette, a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You have some water still in your waterskin, right Annie?” he asked, and continued without waiting for an answer. “Take a drink of it and wait with me while we get a pegasus knight to come over.”

“Y-yes!” she fumbled with the skin at her belt, nearly dropping her axe in the process. She was terrified of putting it away, lest she need it in a pinch. This battle had really frazzled her and even though it raged around her, Sylvain’s riders were keeping them well-defended as they stepped to the rear of his unit. It didn’t mean Sylvain lowered his lance, but he only needed it once in the next few fleeting minutes.

Whinnies overhead drew their attention, and rather than just a pegasus knight, a whole unit was descending. She could hear some shouted orders above, and most of them moved across the frontline, diving and stabbing and retreating as quickly as they could, rising high once more, while the others descended more slowly to where Sylvain waved up.

“I got your message, Syl,” Ingrid’s tone was clipped and short. “What news?” And then, surprised, she noticed, “Annette?”

Sylvain glanced at Annette, then started in, “Annie had a message from Hiro–we had a look and I think the mages are right. The Empire’s kiting us out to try and get us to face the damn magic golems. If we get strung out like that, the troops they’re pulling back will fall right on us and pick us off like flies, Ing.”

Ingrid cursed and looked out at the hulking metal beasts on the field. “We’ll get a look from the sky and let the others know if someone else hasn’t figured it out already. Brynda,” she gestured to one of the pegasus knights that had remained with her, “you’ll remain here in case Sylvain has more information before we see if the Professor wants to change tactics!”

“As you command!” she saluted quickly. Ingrid nodded, then put her fingers to her lips and let out a shrill whistle even as she rose into the air.

Sylvain laughed dryly and said, “I didn’t even get to tell her to watch herself up there.” He squared his shoulders pretty quickly afterwards, however, and turned back to Annette. “Tell Hiro we’re to hold the line and not advance–I’m sure he’s probably already doing that waiting for you to get back, but just in case. We’re waiting for orders!”

“S-sure!” Annette nearly yelped, then tacked on a hasty, “Sir!”

“Get back to them,” he pushed her probably with a little more force than intended, back towards where she had just seen a streak of lightning crash down not far away. “They’re probably missing you about now.”

She didn’t say anything, but nodded quickly and turned to dart back through their lines. She kept an eye on the enemies just barely out of her line of sight, until she spotted the familiar mage’s uniforms and the patch on the shoulder that signalled Sylvain’s men. Annette stepped forward once she reached them, as they ushered a soldier holding his bleeding arm back towards the forward line of medics for at least first aid, and allowed her a gap to slip back through her own unit. She kept a firm grip on her axe, weaved between her allies, and finally spotted Hiro with his spear in hand, standing back a bit and calling orders.

He spotted her, and motioned for her to step up beside him before issuing one more order of, “Hold fast, men!”

When Annette stepped up nearer to him, Hiro spoke before she had the chance to. “And? Did you get the message delivered?”

She nodded quickly, glancing around for awareness’ sake. “To Sylvain directly. I missed the messenger by a second,” she answered quickly, shifting her grip to a more ready position on her axe. “He says to hold the line, and Ingrid and her unit are observing from above and alerting others. They think we’re right.”

He nodded, glancing out. The numbers of enemies between them and the giant dark magic beasts were thinning, and it wasn’t completely clear but it appeared that battalions were forming some distance behind the nearest golem. The enemy soldiers were being reorganized by officers who wouldn’t stand on the front lines with them to start with.

“We’ll see if our generals will change up the scheme soon enough, then. In the meantime, we’ll hold the line here. You’ve done good work, rookie! Now get over there and help Vara!” he gestured ahead and to the left, where the swordswoman was clashing with another. 

“Yessir!” Annette felt like she said for the hundredth time.

When she’d turned her back on him, she heard his voice raise loudly above the din, “ _ NEWS FROM SIR GAUTIER! HOLD THE LINE HERE AND WAIT FOR FURTHER ORDERS! _ ”

His voice was a little hoarse, but there was a chorus of understanding from around him, and Annette stepped forward with a wind spell to defend Vara’s flank. The woman somehow managed to laugh and called out, “It’s about time you got back, newbie!”

She just nodded and readjusted her grip with two hands, raising her axe to meet the next soldier to charge forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAND Thank you for reading another chapter of Silversong!!! Next chapter, as long as edits go according to plan between a few things this week (including a funeral for a great uncle I met like once? which no one seems to know the date of and I don't know if I'm attending or not?), you'll see me again next Sunday for chapter 9!
> 
> I'm sorry if anything seemed a little rushed or anything in the chapter. It was, again, written for the minibang event and parts of it were, in fact, written in a bit of a rush, so I've been reworking parts as we go along. 
> 
> ANDDDDD shoutout again to my partner, Soulty!!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were a lot of orders stacked on top of each other, and Annette didn’t have any idea how she was supposed to manage all of them at once. She was sure going to try, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late - I say, as it's 11:59pm as I'm typing this, so it'll be TUESDAY by the time it's actually posted - at least in my time zone. Oops.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, sorry it's a little late, and I'll see you for some more at the end of the chapter! :D

Annette lost track of time. She didn’t know how many minutes or hours had passed, but the constructs ahead loomed closer and closer, and the numbers of Imperial soldiers between them and the Kingdom army dwindled even more. It was through a combination of defeat and retreat, and every moment that passed dragged on as she tried to keep tabs on the situation.

Too much was happening to be sure, but she saw that the Kingdom lines were starting to draw even, even to draw back in some places where they’d pressed forward following the subtle kiting attempts by the Empire. Every moment that passed without a messenger bearing new orders, or some shift in tactics, made her mouth feel drier and drier.

Before long, with or without new orders, they’d be facing those mechanical-magical contraptions. Annette wished there was more time to figure out how they were powered, or study for a weakness, but if they weren’t given the chance they would have to use the same method they’d used before she had joined–just burst it down with superior damage and numbers.

With fewer enemies crowding the field directly before them, though, it was becoming more apparent that refreshed and reorganized battalions marched behind their giant dark magic war machines. The golems flickered with magic, and even from this distance the dark thrum in the air was tangible. It made her skin crawl, just feeling it in the air. Dark magic defied the laws of reason and faith. It was something twisted and vile when used by the wrong hands, and she couldn’t think of worse hands for it to be in than those of the Imperial soldiers before her.

_ There’s gotta be something _ , she told herself, glancing back out towards the nearest golem.  _ Some weakness...some way to take them down more efficiently. _

“Annette!” she heard, pulling her out of her thought spiral, and on instinct she flinched back and raised her axe at the same time–just in time to stop a strike from an incoming assassin. It was enough to parry the blow, but she was forced off-balance from the strength of the blow. He whirled around with his blades again, intending to strike her down as she stumbled, but he didn’t get the chance.

Two arrows sank into his chest in quick succession, and a horse and rider came towards them.  _ Ashe _ , she realized belatedly as he nocked another arrow and scanned the field. The arrow flew almost before she could blink, and she heard a cry somewhere ahead, thoughts he couldn’t see from her vantage point as she regained her footing. He pulled another arrow.

“Th-thanks,” she managed, her voice cracking.

“Not a problem,” he answered easily, though he was a bit more tense than she was used to seeing him. The lance strapped across his back was bloodied and there was a cut on his cheek, so she could tell he’d been in a bit of a close combat scuffle himself already. He glanced over to Hiro and nodded at him. “Everyone’s had the message you sent, Hiro. I was reporting in and caught the Professor talking with His Highness and Ingrid, so I’ve got your new orders if you can step back to listen.”

Hiro nodded, though he raised a brow in question, probably at the fact that Ashe was delivering the new orders rather than one of the aerial units. He didn’t verbally question it, however, and instead called for a few people to close the ranks. Then he ordered Annette and Vara to fall back with him, and they both did so without question. Annette was a little dazed at the request, but she heeded it nonetheless.

The group pulled back behind the lines, Ashe sliding down from his horse while his small unit of bow knights rode forward to assist with holding position. Once they were behind one of the makeshift barricades, Ashe began.

“The professor has issued orders for some battalions to divide in order to deal with those...things,” he gestured widely to the large constructs. “Golems,” he decided after a moment, and continued, “There are five of them in total. Ingrid’s pegasus knights are to join Sylvain’s battalions to fight the one nearest this flank. But the Professor’s ordered your units, Hiro, to assist with this one instead of the flank.”

Annette blinked, and looked back out at the field, before turning back to Ashe and opening her mouth to ask questions. Hiro beat her to it.

“Who else?” he asked, glancing back towards the front lines. “We can’t be the only ones. That’s  _ suicide _ !”

“No, of course not,” Ashe shook his head quickly. “My bow knights will split and help here and with the flank, and Felix and the Professor will be splitting forces–she’ll be bringing most of their men this way, while Felix assists His Highness’s battalions with the centermost golem.”

Hiro seemed to nearly breathe a sigh of relief. Annette thought she knew why, because although she’d only been with the army for a matter of weeks, she’d already heard numerous tales of the Professor’s prowess. Some, in whispers usually, even called her the  _ Ashen Demon _ , which Annette understood was a name that had carried over from her days as a mercenary. She couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, not to have Felix by her side, but she tried to drown that little voice out.

“Ah, Byleth’s like a one-woman army,” Vara noted. “She’s quick and will take command. She might even have a way to take them down faster…”

“Do we have any other news or information?” Annette asked, before realizing she was probably cutting Vara off prematurely and turning to her and blurting, “Sorry, I just–”

“Good question, Annette, no need to apologize,” Hiro placed a hand on her shoulder and turned back to Ashe even as Vara shook her head and assured her it was fine.She still felt guilty, but she turned her gaze as Hiro had, to the bowman next to them. Ashe, however, merely frowned and shook his head.

“Unfortunately not. We didn’t get much of a chance to examine the last golems we faced, though Hanneman seemed to think there might have been some mechanism channeling it, in Arianrhod. Runes, or something? I’m not exactly sure what he was looking for, and we don’t have as many people familiar with dark magic as they do. We’re still going in kind of blind.”

“It’s likely that there’s some kind of source,” she muttered to herself. “It can’t really be a runic circle, or anything, since we’re out in the field and they can’t have anticipated us well enough to prepare something like that in the open without worrying about spies…”

“Theorizing won’t do us much good until we’re up close and personal with it, I’ll wager,” Vara said, breaking Annette’s train of thought. “In order to get an idea of whatever might be powering it, we’ll probably need to see it up front.”

With a sigh, Hiro agreed. “It’s good to try and figure out some quicker way to disable them. Last time there were a lot of injuries and casualties, and any way to avoid that is going to help us. But Vara’s right–we don’t have enough knowledge or time to try and figure it out from this distance. We’ll have to try to think on our feet.” 

“I know, just…”

“You’ll be fine, Annette,” Vara clapped her on the back. Hiro grinned at her and added his piece, too.

“You’re good at thinking on your feet. After all,  _ you’re _ the one that noticed they were trying to force us to overextend.”

At that, Ashe’s eyes widened a little, and Annette snorted. She tried to think of something to say, but Vara spoke up again before she could. “And besides that, Byleth’s a quick one. I’ll wager the two of you can figure something out if anyone can.”

“I’m not so sure,” Annette said softly, but couldn’t finish her thoughts because a horn sounded, somewhere towards the center of their forces. Annette tried to remember what it meant, if she knew, but she didn’t have to think long. Hiro straightened, and Vara shifted her grip on her sword.

“Let’s go hold the line. The next horn will be the sign to push forward.” Hiro spoke with a certainty that Annette envied, and Ashe nodded to him.

He reached for his saddle, preparing to mount up once more, before turning back to address Hiro again. He spared a glance for both Annette and Vara as he spoke. “We’ll support you. I’ll have Leonie’s unit serve as a cavalry unit to help lead the charge, and the rest will provide ranged support.”

Hiro just nodded quickly, and Ashe swung into his saddle in away that made it look easy.

That name he’d said, Leonie, was vaguely familiar. Leonie, she understood from a few conversations, was originally from the Leicester alliance, but had joined up shortly after learning that the Professor, the daughter of the former captain of the Knights of Seiros, Jeralt Eisner, had resurfaced alive. She was capable with lance and bow, and as good a seat as any member of the cavalry. She’d be a good addition, and she’d been able to attend that shortened year at Garreg Mach, so she had some leadership skill too. It was probably why she was one of Ashe’s captains.

There were so many people so much more qualified than her, here. So many people that had been able to attend the school she  _ should have _ gone to, were it not for her uncle, and it made her feel incredibly inadequate.

Annette swallowed the lump rising in her throat and tried to focus on more pressing matters, though everything seemed distant, with her blood pounding loudly in her ears.

“C’mon,” Vara nudged her, pulling her back to the present. Annette might have yelped a little, embarrassingly. “Don’t go getting all spacey now, Annie.”

Hiro was already striding back out into their unit, and Annette scrambled to follow with Vara at her side. He turned back and gestured for them to walk with him rather than behind, and the no-nonsense way Hiro carried himself made Annette rush to comply. Vara did so at a slightly more leisurely pace, but her stance was coiled, ready to spring at a moment’s notice.

“I want you two with me,” he said as they returned into the ranks, mages parting to allow them back near the center. There was little to no fighting at their lines now, having shifted to infantry units on either side. “I use thunder spells, Vara uses flame, and Annette uses wind. It would be better if one of us could also cast a blizzard spell, but we can make do. When we charge, our first priority will be to see what the golem’s weaknesses are, if any. Vara, I want you to cast a fire spell first, then engage with your sword. I’ll strike with my lance and follow up with thunder. Annette?”

“Y-yes?”

“I want you to stay a few paces back from it at first,” he wasn’t facing her, instead looking up and down the gleaming stone-and-metal construct, watching the dark magic practically pulsing within. “Maybe more than a few, just to be safe. Observe it, and once we’ve used fire and thunder, cast a wind spell.”

“Of course but...why am I hanging back? I can try my axe, too! Uh, sir!”

Hiro snorted a little. “You’ve got a good eye for details. I want you to see if you can notice particular tells, to see if it has weaknesses to magic or weapons...and I want you to see if you can find that source you were talking about.”

Annette blinked, startled. 

“It’s just a hypothetical–”

“It is, but it’s founded in solid logic. You’re a smart girl, Annette, and talented too,” he cut her off, eyes still trained forward. “You can be a bit clumsy, sure, but you’re quick to adapt and you know what you’re doing, even if you don’t believe in yourself.”

She thought, briefly, of Felix’s emphatic assurance–or as emphatic as Felix Fraldarius ever seemed to get–that she was a bladesinger, then forced the thought aside as Vara chipped in.

“He’s right, you know.”

“I’m not saying you should completely sacrifice offense for observation,” Hiro said slowly, in a tone that clearly said he was thinking things over. “Still cast spells in the meantime, and pay attention to the battle around you. The battalions are likely to fall upon us almost as soon as we engage the golem, after all, and being aware of them will be important. But you’ve got a quick eye and if you can read a situation as quickly as you read their kiting ploy, and if you can spot anything the rest of us can’t, then I will take the chance of having a few less spells from you.”

“I...I’ll do my best, then,” she said, meekly. She couldn’t think of anything else, and denying her abilities after such an outpouring of support would have been extremely discourteous. 

“That’s all we ask,” he answered, and Vara affirmed it.

They stood in silence then, and though Annette’s pulse still pounded loudly in her ears she found herself nearly at peace. There were a few instances over the next handful of minutes where they joined in a skirmish with one of their dwindling frontline enemies, waiting for the next signal for their lines to charge forward.

The wait was simultaneously too long for Annette’s nerves, and yet not long enough. But, at some short length, the blare of the war horn sounded once for preparation, and it would sound again in half a minute for the charge. And when it did, battlecries rose from the Kingdom army.

“ _ FORWARD _ !” Hiro’s voice was as loud as she’d heard it, to rise above the shouts around them. “Squads five and six, in flanking position! My squad, to the front!”

Cries of assent, and then they joined the charging men and women of the army. Some infantry units, with a few fortress knights, under the command of Alois of the Knights of Seiros charged slightly ahead of them, though the heavily armored units lagged behind until the mages mingled with them. Annette kept near Hiro, as he had ordered, and Vara was some several paces ahead, her sword drawn and readied even as Annette watched fire forming in the palm of her free hand.

Vara’s fire spell was the first thing to hit the golem, aside from a handful of arrows that clattered harmlessly off the most heavily armored parts.

It definitely had some effect, but nothing that she would consider a  _ weakness _ . And when Vara’s sword struck, it was with little effect. In fact...it appeared that it may have struck some sort of  _ barrier _ instead of the construct itself, which posed a whole new set of questions Annette didn’t have the time to try and answer here.

Another fire spell from a different mage struck from the flank, with no major effect, but her attention was on the rumbling that preceded her captain’s thunder spell, lightning streaking down in a vicious column, electricity arcing between the metal plates and seeming to fizzle out on the stone. Standard effect, but nothing she’d consider devastating. As he, and the others around them, continued to strike at the golem with their various weapons, she noticed little change, but a shimmering where their blows struck only convinced her more.

“Annette!”

Hiro’s voice, like a command, rang out, and she pulled the magic from deep within, casting with her palms and using her fingers to guide the wind spell as it sliced through, and around, and–damaged it more than the others. Were they anywhere but on a battlefield, her gasp would have been audible.

“Well?” she heard Hiro, and noted that he’d stepped back. Some of the cavalry that Ashe had promised surged forward to strike in the gaps that had been left, then wheeled away to look for another opening.

“It’s got a barrier, preventing much physical damage,” she rattled off quickly. “Where you strike it, you can see the barrier shimmer, just a little. Most spells are doing standard damage, but wind seemed to work well!”

She spat it out in as much of a rush as she could, glancing back up.

“A barrier…” Hiro paused in thought, though he fired off a rapid thunder spell at half the potency of his first in his distraction before suggesting, “For that, find a soldier or a fortress knight with a hammer, and see if it does more damage! You do that, and I’ll pass on the word about wind magic. Keep casting!”

“Yessir!”

There were a lot of orders stacked on top of each other, and Annette didn’t have any idea how she was supposed to manage all of them at once. She was sure going to try, though. Starting with a cutting gale, whipping through the air at the dark magic construct’s chest, chipping away. After that, she scanned the ground in front for any member of the army attacking with a blunt weapon, but was temporarily distracted by the shouts that sounded around the rear.

“The enemy’s charging!”

“Watch your flanks!”

“Imperials!”

Numerous different shouts for the same thing–but Annette was far away from it, and had more pressing matters directly before her. A rain of arrows arced over, most likely courtesy of Ashe and his men, and the sound of hooves around momentarily drew her attention to his cavalry diving in again. She saw no blunt weapons in a quick scan of their arms, and shot off another sloppy wind spell. 

The barrier, however, flashed brightly from one area, and Annette turned her attention there. The cacophony around her could only distract her from the tasks she’d been given for so long, and that barrier was one of them, in a way. But rather than a knight or soldier with a hammer, she spotted the fabled Professor, Byleth Eisner, with a silver sword in hand. She struck again, quicker than Annette’s eye could follow, and she watched the shimmer of a barrier shatter.

It crumbled away, but only near where the ex-mercenary stood.

_ Layers _ , she realized suddenly,  _ the barrier has layers _ .

Layers that, with enough of a beating, would disappear regardless of what type of force was used against it. She suspected this particular golem’s defenses only consisted of physical barriers, and it was sturdy enough to take magic blasts regardless.

Annette felt an even greater sense of urgency to figure out its weakness. Not just for her own scholarly curiosity, but because she saw the way it knocked four, five, maybe even six kingdom soldiers to the ground with a single sweep of its giant stone and metal lance. She couldn’t keep track of where they fell or rolled, save for the one who rolled backwards and back to her feet, only to leap forward at the golem once more...only after casting a fire spell before her.

Vara had been one of those soldiers. Annette’s chest tightened, and she focused on another cutting gale, letting it tear from her palms, guided by her fingers over the heads of her comrades. It was around then that Hiro surged back into view, looking to her expectantly as he stood next to her to cast thoron.

Before he could ask, Annette told him, “The barrier has layers–it’ll break with enough hits, but I haven’t seen anyone with a hammer yet. Byleth shattered part of it, to the left flank, but it’s still intact elsewhere!”

Hiro just nodded, casting one more spell before hefting his lance. “Stay ranged, use magic, watch for other signs,” he said, before charging forward in a space left by the rotating cavalry. Annette nodded at his retreating back, and cast again, feeling the pull deep within her this time. 

“It appears I just missed Hiro,” a voice said, and Annette nearly jumped as the woman stepped up next to her. Her face betrayed no emotions aside from determination as she reached out and cast what Annette was pretty positive was  _ bolganone _ at the construct before them. “He has you observing?”

_ Byleth _ .

“Y-yessir! Ma’am!”

“What have you noticed?”

Somehow, the woman’s voice sounded entirely calm despite the sounds of numerous clashes around them. Most from the golem directly ahead, but she knew some of the battle was taking place beyond that, now, where many infantry units had moved forward to prevent the imperial battalions from flanking.

“Th-the barrier around it is only a physical defense, and has different layers, or sections! You broke through one of them earlier, and it’s now taking full damage on that exposed leg,” she gestured before summoning the strength to cast another cutting gale. She couldn’t just be talking and watching, and she felt somehow like she wasn’t doing enough even though she was trying to do exactly what her captain had told her. “Magic damage is about normal, but it seems to be a little weaker to wind!”

Byleth had been observing the golem, even as it shuddered from a particularly powerful blow to the exposed leg. As they watched, there was a shimmer that remained in the air around it as another fierce blow, this time from the lance of a mounted woman, probably Leonie, weakened part of the barrier nearly directly in front of them. It was crumbling, but not gone yet.

“Good eye, Annette,” she nodded. She didn’t offer a pat on the shoulder or any other reassurance, but offered a swift thanks and slipped back into the surging soldiers around, almost as quickly as she’d appeared. 

A few more tense minutes passed after, with no one coming up to or speaking to her, and she focused on doing what she could. Her wind spells were more regulated, and smaller, to preserve some of her energy, and the barrier protecting the hulking stone beast’s front was nearly gone. Annette was pulled with the flow of battle to a point nearer the flank than she would have liked or had intended, and was just starting to plan how to move back in front of it when she saw, or rather  _ felt _ , the sickening presence that only dark magic could bring.

It was stronger than the golem itself had been putting off, even though it just felt  _ wrong _ standing next to it, and Annette’s eyes scanned quickly. 

Something on the statue, resembling a metal canteen, pulsed with dark light before it sank within, and Annette gasped. She wouldn’t have seen it if she hadn’t been at this angle, and while she hadn’t spotted the dark mage that had to have cast something, she thought she might have an idea of what they were aiming for.

The problem was finding Hiro, or relaying it to someone who wouldn’t just ignore her. It was a fight for their lives, after all.

She cast one swift wind spell at the canteen...and was met by an additional barrier, smaller and more potent and  _ definitely _ there to prevent magic attacks. She didn’t know if it was just a magical barrier or not, since it was high enough that the best chance of striking it would be with arrows, javelins, or a daring flier.

_ Hiro _ , she decided.  _ I have to get Hiro _ .

She scanned the mass of soldiers, but came back with no visual cues that would help her. Annette was loathe to give up this angle, and even cast a small, concentrated cutting gale at the canteen to little avail, but she might have to in order to find Hiro. She couldn’t even see Vara now, though she did see one member of their unit nearby as he hurled a fire spell that cracked part of the golem’s knee plate.

It was only by sheer chance that Annette happened to see the sweeping attack by the golem, in her general direction, in time to tumble under. It put her up close and personal with the construct for perhaps the first time–everything was such a haze that she couldn’t remember now–and she scrambled to her feet once more, looking up just in time to see another tendril of dark magic seep into the canteen and follow it to the mass of red uniforms beyond.

With a shout, Annette cast a short fireball directly above her, at the canteen, and watched the way the barrier around it shimmered. With any luck, it would give out the same as any of the other physical barriers did, but at what cost?

“-ette! Annette, pull back!” she heard, just barely, over the sound of a cavalry unit pressing in next to her, and she stumbled away as she was bid, only to find that it was Ashe motioning to her. “Annette!”

“A-Ashe?”

“What were you doing so close? You don’t even have your axe drawn!” he cried, nocking an arrow. She reached out to grab his leg as he took aim and he paused.

“A-aim for that metal canteen, almost hidden by its cloak!”

His eyes widened in understanding and he took careful aim as Annette scrambled back, his horse prancing sideways a little, wary of the teeming masses of soldiers around. It didn’t have any bearing on Ashe’s aim, however, as his arrow flew true and struck–without the glow of a barrier. It didn’t destroy the device, or really dent it much, but the force must have been more than Annette could have imagined because the entire golem shuddered before striking out wildly in front of it.

“What is it?!” Ashe asked, wheeling his horse back as Annette stumbled to follow. He pulled another arrow from his nearly empty quiver as he did so.

“Their dark mages are casting at it!” she answered quickly, casting a quick wind spell over at the golem’s exposed front. “I think it’s like...a power source! If you look, its left leg should’ve given out by now, but since they’re keeping it going with magic–”

“So we take that out, and it crumbles?”

“I think so!” she nodded quickly. “But it’s resistant to magic! I think it was deliberately the opposite resistance as the golem itself!”

He let another arrow fly, though this one only skimmed the target. The shudder wasn’t nearly as noticeable this time. Ashe grit his teeth and shook his head, irritated, but then looked back down at Annette. “I think you’re onto something. I–”

Annette didn’t think. She reached out to slap his mount’s hindquarters, startling it enough to make it rear a little and take a few strides forward, and barely managed to avoid getting pierced by the dark spikes that burst from the ground where they’d been standing. A sharp pain raced up her leg as she jerked away from it, but she ignored it for a moment to search for the source.

Imperial soldiers had breached the line at their flank, and at their front was a dark mage. A dark mage who, by the looks of things, had realized what they had figured out.

A moment after Annette spotted him, preparing to cast something at him, an arrow sank into his throat. His next twisted spell fizzled out and died with him, and Ashe was back next to her and reaching for his lance. “Thanks,” he said, then seemed to pick up right where he’d left off when she’d slapped his horse’s rump. “I’ll try to let the others know...and get some more arrows. You should rotate back.”

“Annette!” the call came before she could follow Ashe’s words, and Hiro appeared. “Did you see, a few moments ago? It wasn’t just from a hit–”

“You two should pull back and Annette can fill you in,” Ashe interjected, his horse prancing as he scanned the soldiers around. His cavalry units were engaged with the imperial soldiers, at Byleth’s command, and his bowmen were covering where they could. “I’ll get to the Professor.”

Hiro just nodded, then motioned for Annette to follow him. 

She found herself limping, and a quick glance showed a tear in her boot–grazed by the spikes, it seemed. She could work with that.

Annette filled Hiro in as soon as he turned and asked, and he clapped her on the shoulder. “Knew you had a good eye,” he commended, looking back out at the battle, then back at her. “Take a moment, take a sip of your vulnerary for that leg,” she was a big surprised it hadn’t escaped his notice, “and then come back. With any luck, the golem will be down in just a few moments, and then we’ll just have to worry about the soldiers.”

She could only nod, reaching for the vulnerary at her hip. 

The golem crumbled not long after, though Annette could scarcely believe how, even as she watched it. When she saw Byleth pull herself up on Leonie’s horse, stand braced with one hand on the bow knight’s shoulder, and then take a leap at the golem itself, sinking her silver sword directly into the canteen, or canister, or whatever it was, Annette let out an half-yelp half-scream that was drowned out by the sounds of battle around her. 

Dark magic seethed from where Byleth’s blade had pierced, and Annette was thankful that the woman’s momentum had carried her to the ground already, where she rolled and regained her footing nearly instantaneously. She brought her blade clean through the golem’s right leg as she did so, and the cheer that rose up from the kingdom as the magical construct toppled to the ground was as loud as any battlecry Annette had ever heard.

There was a certain heaviness in the pit of her stomach when Annette realized that so far, theirs was the only one to fall.

She heard Byleth’s voice rise above the din–“ _ PRESS THE ADVANTAGE _ !”–and the whoops and cheers around her only preceded the swiftest charge forward that she had yet seen. With a steadying breath and a quick prayer to the goddess, right there in the middle of the field, Annette did as she’d been told.

Hiro had her remain back, casting spells and supporting with the majority her squad and the fifth, while Hiro, Vara, and the sixth charged forward. The rest of the battle was a haze in her mind as her body moved on impulse and adrenaline, though Annette felt almost hyper aware of everything around her. She could practically hear every breath she took, could hear the way her heart raced in her chest whenever she spotted a close call or saw someone in Faerghus’ royal blue tumble down.

But eventually, the momentum was theirs. Shouts rang through the ranks, informing her that the Empire and Dukedom troops were withdrawing, and the cavaliers and bow knights and dark knights and whoever else was mounted were to give chase while the rest of them finished cleaning up shop.

* * *

When finally the true shouts of victory rang across the battlefield, Annette was already feeling the aches and pains of the day. The adrenaline haze only lasted so long, her arms were nearly leaden, and she wanted to let her axe tumble from her fingers but she refrained. There could still be an enemy among them, someone she’d have to defend against or attack, and she couldn’t let her guard down just yet. She learned as she waited that the men and women on horseback, and a unit of fliers, had given chase to the retreating enemies.

In the wait for them to return, Annette also learned, by stumbling in to see if the healers wanted her help, that Vara had taken a grisly blow, from navel to armpit, as the price for her sword shattering against a tricky lance maneuver. She had lived only out of proximity to Byleth herself, who had cast a hasty heal even while fending off enemies. Annette was consequently so distracted that she was ushered out of the tent, where she returned to the field.

It took about an hour, but their riders returned from thoroughly routing what remained of their enemy, and the cheer echoed across the field in earnest this time. 

Some sought out their comrades to share their victory with, others a vulnerary after using all of theirs, and others still sought a moment to sit and rest. 

Annette had always known that there was more to war than the battles themselves, but this was her first time witnessing firsthand how much remained to do after the battle was over. There was tending to the wounded, burying the dead, setting up patrols, getting a meal for those that could stomach it, and more.

And yet still, time for Annette to wonder... _ if I had revealed that Felix thinks I’m a bladesinger, would Vara have gotten hurt at all _ ?

That train of thought felt particularly damning, and she would falter in whatever task she was attempting until she could pull her attention back to the present.

It had been brutal, but their losses had not been so great as they had all feared, going into it. Several were injured, of course, and the loss of lives was still sobering, but they had to move on. Annette’s own injuries were relatively minor, mostly just scratches and bruises that could be bandaged at length. She forwent immediate attention to assist in further recovery efforts. Her healing magic wouldn’t work on her own wounds, after all, and she would much rather have that attention go to the wounded that desperately needed it.

Felix disapproved, when he saw the bandage around her wrist later in the evening. He was assisting in finding and locating the injured and moving them to the healers when it was safe for them to be moved, and Annette was out there with the searchers across the field. Her healing magic wasn’t  _ strong _ by any means, but it was enough to perform some rudimentary first aid so that more soldiers could be returned to their field hospital for further attention from Manuela and Mercedes and the number of other healders the army had in service. This included no small number of monks, priests, and bishops that wore the colors of Garreg Mach, some of whom had also been assisting with first aid.

Annette had used nearly all of her magic reserves in the battle. It was probably pushing it to keep healing, but the faces of those who fell here at her own hands would not allow her to pause. She had to keep moving forward. She had to help save lives, now that she had taken so many more.

Even if she’d known it would be rough, the aftermath of battle still made her hands shake. Her superiors had already commended her for her valiant efforts and whatever else, but it had fallen mostly on deaf ears. She’d heard, but she couldn’t comprehend anything other than the fact that she had now killed more than just a few bandits.

In the back of her mind, Annette knew it was foolish. She’d known from the start what she was getting into. Maybe this had truly been the reason that her uncle had desperately tried keeping her out of the war–had he seen how weak she would be in the wake of battle, realizing the blood on her hands? Was she really so soft-hearted that he believed her incapable of stomaching the horrors of war, even before she was face to face with any of them?

“Not now, Annie, you need to focus,” she told herself, steeled herself, before she knelt by another form in blue, unmoving. It wasn’t a face she recognized, and his skin was cold to the touch when she reached for a pulse. The searcher with her looked expectantly, and she shook her head. A priest stepped forward then to say a soft prayer to the goddess as he knelt on the man’s other side, drawing his eyes closed with one hand.

Annette tore her gaze away, stood, and closed her eyes, breathing out slowly, before she once more looked around. 

They were making progress, and lots of it. The battle had lasted hours, but in the two hours since they had done much. Darkness was falling fast, and she wanted to make sure there was no one else out on the field that seemed to stretch for miles ahead of her. If there was another soul alive out there, she wanted to make sure they stayed that way. 

In some strange way, it might be her way of atoning for her own sins here this day.

“You need rest,” the voice startled her, and she turned to find Felix. Now that she knew he was there, he stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, glancing back to the rest of her party as they moved on ahead. She wanted to say something in return, but words failed her until Felix finally added, “You’ve done enough, Annette. You’re clearly exhausted. If you won’t sleep, at least take a moment to eat something. They’ve prepared a quick stew, for those who can eat.”

“But…” she looked out across the darkening battlefield. Some men, led by Prince Dimitri himself and his ever present shadows in the form of her father and the stoic man from Duscur, Dedue, had been moving the fallen Imperial soldiers. Though they were enemies, the dead were treated with care–lain side by side in rows, with a bishop presiding over and murmuring prayers over them. Sylvain was doing the same with the Kingdom’s own. “I haven’t done enough,” her voice was small, as she watched one of the priests finish another rite.

She heard Felix sigh. “None of us have. None of us ever will, probably.”

“Does it get any easier?” 

“Probably not, for someone as nice as you are,” his fingers squeezed her shoulder lightly. His tone was softer when he added, “But you already knew that.”

Annette felt like she’d been seen clean through. She’d definitely been thinking that, as she looked across the field and felt simultaneously numb as well as a pain in her chest. And so, rather than speak, she just nodded. A moment later, against her better judgement, she stepped closer and leaned into Felix’s side just a little. For a second, he was tense and unsure, and then he relaxed and his grip on her shoulder shifted as his arm wrapped across her back to rest his hand once more on her other shoulder. Though it was tentative and nothing near the type of embrace Annette felt like she needed, it still had the same way of calming her as one of Mercedes’ all-encompassing hugs. 

At length, Felix spoke again.

“You don’t have to sleep right now. Just try to eat something and take a break.”

Instead of protesting this time, Annette nodded, then asked, “What about you?”

“Me?”

“You haven’t eaten yet either, right?”

She stepped a bit away from the comfort of his side and turned to look at him, her expression and body language bordering on defiance. She dared him, silently, to lie to her.

“I haven’t.”

“Try to eat with me, then.”

It would be a bit later before Annette really realized that what she  _ meant _ by that was  _ don’t leave me alone _ . It seemed that Felix had understood it anyway, glanced around, and nodded. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Let’s get back and try to eat something,” he agreed.

She breathed a small sigh of relief and smiled at him, albeit weakly, and fell in step beside him. Annette might have leaned on his shoulder a little, and Felix had let her even though he was probably tired himself, and all Annette could really feel in that moment was glad. Glad that she was still alive, but more that  _ he  _ was, too.

Glad that his swords were still intact, and that she didn’t have his life or some fatal injury to him on her conscience, too.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for still reading! Hope you liked this update!!! Hope nothing seemed too rushed, or too weird, or too...anything bad, I guess.
> 
> It's a little delayed for a whole bunch of reasons, but I hope that slight delay was worth it! this part was so hard to rework and make it something I was happier with, but in the end I definitely feel like this turned out better than my original vision and the rough version I had drafted! I hope you guys feel the same (even if you never saw the old version lol). 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! And, as usual, I hope to have the next one out to you by next Sunday :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hindsight was much clearer and the future ever uncertain, but she felt that she had to do something now, while she could, for the fight ahead. She just had to find her chance and work up the nerve, the courage, to do what she thought had to be done. 
> 
> She didn’t say a word about any of it to Mercedes, though she thought she should. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I am, later on the update than intended for the second week in a row.
> 
> I just got thrown completely off by missing my usual day last week, I guess. But anyway, without further ado, chapter 10 of Silversong is coming your way!

She did end up sleeping shortly after they ate. It wasn’t long, and it perhaps wasn’t as restful as she would have liked, but it was necessary all the same. The search for other survivors was over by the time she had awoken, so Annette made her way to the field hospital to assist where she could there, and the rest of the night passed with a flurry of motion and faith magic. She washed wounds, washed bandages, changed bandages, administered vulernaries and antidotes, and whatever else the healers needed of her. 

Annette was ill-equipped to provide final rites, so monks or priests or bishops, wearing the colors of the church, would slide periodically into spaces that she vacated with a heavy heart. 

Heavier still, when she saw a few of them with broken weapons at their bedsides. 

It was no small endeavor to care for the injured after a full-scale battle. Annette had never seen so many wounded men and women in one place, and she desperately wished she never would again...but there was yet another battle imminent, and perhaps more besides. So she steeled herself to the best of her abilities and worked. She worked side-by-side with those more experienced than her for hours and hours, until most of the injured were out of danger and resting and the officers were summoned for a debriefing. It was around the hour that the sun began to rise. 

Annette busied herself with continuing to help the soldiers in her care. She had long since reached the point where even the weakest of healing magics was more draining to her than helpful to her patients, so she was forced to simply change bandages and tend to fevers. There weren’t many infections because of timely healing and response, but the onset of fever in the few that were at risk was something best dealt with by traditional medicine. Healing magic did little for infection, once it was already setting in. 

Mercedes was forced, by Manuela as well as by some of the other officers, to take a rest once the officer’s debrief had ended. By then it was midmorning, nearly a full twenty-four hours after the beginning of yesterday’s battle, and the aches and pains of the rigorous day were creeping in. Even Mercie couldn’t have been immune to that, having spent hours upon hours healing the men and women of the kingdom–before, during, and after the battle, as Manuela liked to say. Even so, she didn’t rest as long as anyone would’ve liked her to. She was back and tending to the injured scarcely past midday. 

Annette tried, and failed, to convince her friend to rest longer. She supposed it might have been more effective had she more energy herself to protest, but Mercedes von Martritz was hard-headed when it came to helping those who could yet be treated, and no one would keep her from doing so. Annette had known it was a near futile effort from the start but had still attempted it, nonetheless. 

Several hours passed like this, until Annette and Mercedes both were gently chastised out of the medical block of tents and back into their own and urged to rest. Manuela, who had just come back from a long rest, was energetic enough to give them an earful, which was something. It was once they had returned to the tent and made themselves a spot of tea that Mercie, wearily, finally filled Annette in about some of the officer’s meetings that morning. 

She still wasn’t sure how much of this information she should really be allowed to hear, but Annette would never complain about more information. 

The meeting had discussed the losses, the number of Imperials suspected to have escaped, and supplies, culminating in decisions to be made about when to move out and make for the capital. As much as they were loath to give the Imperial forces any time to recover for the defense of Fhirdiad, it seemed that Dimitri still wanted to allow until the following morning for healing and preparations to move out once again. They would already be at a disadvantage, as the army besieging the city and palace, so the prince wanted as many men and women healed and able to fight as possible. 

The rest of the journey to Fhirdiad would take three days from here, and Annette knew that the officers were doing their best to plan for it. But she’d also heard from Mercedes that some of the troubles they faced–that after this latest battle weapons were in short supply, that they didn’t have time to temper more blades, and that they didn’t have bladesongs that could sustain what weapons they _did_ have–and though it made her heart leap uncomfortably in her throat, she steeled herself. 

She remembered the way Vara’s blade had broken in the previous battle, and the injury she’d taken because of it. She’d heard of several other blades and lances and the like ending up much the same, had _seen_ it with her own eyes in their infirmaries. And a voice had whispered in the back of her head– _couldn’t I have changed that? If Felix is right, could I have helped_? 

Hindsight was much clearer and the future ever uncertain, but she felt that she had to do something now, while she could, for the fight ahead. She just had to find her chance and work up the nerve, the courage, to do what she thought had to be done. 

She didn’t say a word about any of it to Mercedes, though she thought she should. 

Annette dozed fitfully after the conversation with Mercie, against all odds. She should be sleeping as heavily as her friend, as exhaustion weighed her down, but her chest remained tight and memories of the day before, and all the hours since, kept her more alert than she had hoped for. All the while, she tried to plan her next course of action in her head, tried to rehearse, without really knowing if she’d get the opportunity to see it in motion. 

Her chance came, as they often did, several hours later but still well before she felt ready. 

Braziers had been lit around camp, and evening hours were well underway when Mercedes was called away for another briefing. The command tent wasn’t far from where their own tent was pitched, so Annette wondered if her friend hadn’t been one of the first summoned. 

“You should rest some more, Annie,” she said softly as she prepared to leave. “You look tired.” 

“I could say the same to you,” Annette shot back, then let out a chuckle. “There will be time for rest later, I’m sure.” 

Mercie just gave a soft sigh but a knowing smile, glancing to the books beside Annette’s bedroll, and slipped out of the tent with just a soft farewell. Annette knew that she’d probably return to the medical tents for some busy work once the meeting was through, and had half a mind to meet her there, before her own thoughts halted her. 

It was some time after Mercie had departed when Annette finally found her resolve. It was a risk, probably, but she had to take it–not for herself, but for the entire kingdom, for the entire army. With that in mind she stood and pulled her warm cloak over her shoulders before she stepped outside the tent. 

Without allowing herself a moment to think twice, Annette started her way towards the command tent. If she was already on her way, she reasoned, there was less of a chance that she would change her mind. As she walked, she tried to scramble for what she’d tell the guards at the entrance. 

Did she come right out and tell them that she might be a bladesinger and wanted to offer her services? Did she want to omit that and just say she had an idea that she thought the officers and commanders of the Kingdom Army needed to hear? Annette knew that it would be easy to dismiss that kind of suggestion. She was sure everyone thought they knew best, and that some of them had tried. 

Would saying she had important news for someone within do anything to help her chances? Somehow she doubted that, too. She didn’t have anything to do with messengers, after all. 

As it turned out, she didn’t have to come up with an excuse. Or...not much of one, at any rate. It appeared that Manuela had stepped out for something, and was only just returning. They met as Annette stepped nearer to the command tent, and Manuela paused, glancing between Annette and their destination. 

“I’m quite sure you weren’t summoned here,” she mused. 

Annette panicked for a moment, before she finally found words tumbling out, faster than she’d planned to say any of them. 

“No, I...Felix thinks that I’m a bladesinger, but I’ve never tried and I didn’t believe him, and I just...wanted to offer to help, if I can.” 

Manuela’s perfectly manicured brow rose. “ _Felix_ thinks you’re a bladesinger?” 

She nodded, and wrung her hands in front of her. “He said it probably saved our lives, when we were trying to reach the camp when it was just the two of us. But…” 

“Well, if Sir Fraldarius thinks as much, then I wouldn’t doubt it too much. And I’m sure you’ve heard the current situation as far as our weaponry goes, otherwise you might’ve kept it to yourself.” 

“Y-yes, ma’am.” 

“Oh, don’t ma’am me, you little twerp,” Manuela huffed. “Come on, I’ll get you in. I can’t vouch for you though, so the rest you’ve got to do yourself.” 

She motioned for Annette to follow and strode quickly back towards the command tent, saying something to one of the guards and motioning back to Annette. She glanced back and waved to Annette before she herself entered the tent, and Annette scrambled forward after her. She looked nervously to one of the men next to the command tent entrance, but he just nodded to her and inclined his head. 

Annette took a deep breath, and pulled pushed through the flaps. 

“–and there she is,” Manuela said airily as she took her seat. “Annette has something she’d like to share.” 

The eyes of all the officers in the tent had shifted, almost instantly, to where Annette stood nervously at the entrance, and she nearly turned and left on instinct. Instead, she took a shaky breath, cleared her throat, and offered a deep bow. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but there’s something I...need to tell you.” 

“Please, raise your head,” she heard the prince say, not unkindly, so she did as he asked. Her eyes sought a familiar pair of amber ones in the dimly lit tent, and when she met his gaze Felix slowly nodded and sat up straighter in his seat. “Annette, we have much to discuss. Can it wait until after we have concluded?” 

Annette flinched, but before she could speak another voice rose in her stead. “Hear her out.” 

“Fe?” Ingrid sounded surprised, and Sylvain arched a brow. Dimitri looked deep in thought for a long moment, then nodded. 

“Very well then. Please, be brief if you can.” 

Annette bowed again and said a rushed _thank you_ before she tried to steady herself and began to speak. 

“I’m...not sure if it’s true or not, but Felix thinks I’m a bladesinger,” she watched the expressions of surprise and the rustle of motion tear through the room, some heads turning towards Felix while others still watched her closely, but Annette closed her eyes against it as she tried to maintain calm. “If...if it is true, I want to help out as much as I can, before we reach the capital. As many weapons as possible, as quickly as possible.” 

“Wait, a _bladesinger_ ?” Ingrid said, incredulously. Then, “ _Felix_ thinks you are?” 

“Felix doesn’t even _like_ bladesongs!” 

“You always have enjoyed singing, Annie,” Mercie’s tone was thoughtful. 

“If you’re a bladesinger, shouldn’t you have said something sooner?” An officer she wasn’t acquainted with asked sharply, brow furrowed, but the prince cleared his throat and shook his head at him, before silence fell among the others. 

“We could provide some iron and steel weapons to test the theory,” Byleth mused, tapping her fingers lightly against the tabletop. 

“You can provide _any_ weapons,” Felix interjected, drawing attention once more. “I’m sure it will work. But…” here he glanced at Annette, and then forged on while maintaining eye contact, “I’m convinced that Annette’s talent is silversongs.” 

Her heart skipped a beat. 

“Felix,” she started, exasperated, “you don’t even know if that’s _true_ –” 

“Wait…” Ingrid said again slowly, then looked between the two. “My lance! Do you think–” 

“Felix’s swords _do_ have bladesongs now, even though he never liked them…” Sylvain mused, but everyone fell immediately silent when the prince stood from his seat. 

“Get one of the silver swords we still have in the armory wagons, and mayhaps a lance, too,” he commanded a soldier stationed behind Annette, near the entrance. He saluted and stepped out, and Dimitri turned his attention back to Annette. “They were forged recently, and quickly, so if they can be made more durable, it’s as good a test as any. Although I do apologize for putting you on the spot once more, Annette, after all you’ve done for us, we need to be absolutely certain.” 

Manuela nodded, adding, “And even if it’s not that strong, any bladesong that can help the durability of a weapon will be exceedingly useful for the coming battle.” 

“I-I understand,” Annette swallowed past the lump in her throat, then nearly whined, “but my songs are so _silly_.” 

Mercedes stood and rounded the table to give Annette a one-armed embrace, “Aw, Annie, I think your songs are cute!” 

“It’s fine, Annette,” Felix’s tone was warm, though his words were short and clipped as ever. “I like the sound of your voice.” 

Annette felt her face burning almost instantly, and it took a moment for Felix to register the fact that half of the tent was staring, disbelieving, at him. Sylvain rose slowly to his feet and asked slowly, “Felix…?” 

“Shut up,” Ingrid punched him, but she sounded in awe as she glanced back at their friend. 

Mercedes had gasped softly at his words, but then she tightened her arm around Annette’s shoulders and started giggling in her ear. Annette couldn’t help but nervously laugh along, and even the prince allowed a rumbling chuckle amidst the various other expressions of mirth. 

Not long after, the soldier had returned with the requested weapons, and Mercedes whispered words of encouragement in her ear before sidling back over to stand at the corner instead of returning to her spot at the table. They placed the sword flat on the table in front of her, and the soldier remained a few feet back with the lance in hand, awaiting the trade off. It was well known that a bladesinger had to give much focus to one weapon before they could worry about another, which is what made bladesinging for an entire army such a daunting prospect. 

She’d heard some of the Empire’s bladesingers had been worked to death, doing just that. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Annette,” the prince said, and then stood silently at his end of the table, arms crossed easily in front of him. Dedue and her father still stood sentinel behind him, and nearly every other person in the tent had risen and shuffled for a better view. 

Annette nodded, wordlessly, and stared down at the silver sword in front of her. It was quickly forged, they’d said, so she wondered if there were blemishes or flaws that would make it more brittle. She hoped she could help prevent it from breaking because of those, in some way. And then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, picturing the sword in her mind, and started to sing. 

The song was one she’d been working on off and on for a while. It was about joining the army, and she’d mostly composed it before she actually had done so. Recently, she’d been able to finally tweak some of the lyrics now that she was actually here. She heard murmurs, a snort somewhere, and squeezed her eyes more tightly shut as if it would drown it out as she tried to ignore it all and focus. 

Near the end of her first verse, she slowly opened her eyes again, focusing on the sword in front of her and reaching down to draw her finger carefully down the blade. She had no idea if touching it would do anything to it, but it felt right somehow. Instinctive, even. The murmurs had died down around her, and she wondered idly if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

As she flowed into the second verse, she heard someone inhale sharply, and she faltered momentarily before forging onwards. By the end of the verse, they exhaled, long and slow, and then she heard that person, _Manuela,_ speak. 

“That’s the strongest bladesong I’ve seen in this entire war,” she muttered, voice still sounding loud in the silent tent as she stepped over to Annette’s side. Annette was still singing, though her song hitched a little at the words. “And...this is a silversong, without a doubt.” 

“It’s really a silversong?” Ashe breathed, leaning forward. “I didn’t think there were any bladesingers in all of Fodlan who could sing a silversong!” 

Her last verse faded, tremulously, and Manuela turned to her. 

“I cannot _believe_ you didn’t _know_.” 

“My...my songs are so childish, no one wants me to sing them,” she murmured softly, fidgeting with your hands. “A-are you sure there’s not a mistake? You can tell me if there is, I won’t be offended.” 

“Annette,” she heard Felix, tone nearly disapproving, but then Mercedes was there to wrap her arms around her. 

“Annie, there’s no mistake. Look at it yourself.” 

She did. She _had_ been looking, but she wasn’t sure whether the blade truly seemed keener, or whether it was her own wishful thinking. But Mercie’s arms were warm, and she sank into her best friend’s embrace. 

“Not only that,” came Hanneman’s voice, and they turned to find him holding out his hand to the soldier. “Let me see the lance, if you would.” 

“By the Goddess,” Manuela breathed next to her, “it’s worked on it, too?” 

Hanneman nodded, and everyone in the tent burst into startled chatter. “It doesn’t even appear to be much weaker than the sword you were focusing on, Miss Dominic. Are you quite sure you haven’t practiced or studied bladesinging?” 

She shook her head no, speechless. Annette realized that she would probably have to say something, though, and soon, so she shifted nervously from foot to foot as Mercie released her. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t...say anything sooner?” she started, sheepishly. “I just wanted to be useful in some way, but when I was little I used to get laughed at when I said I wanted to be a bladesinger because of how silly all my songs were, and then we found out I could use magic. I thought, if I worked hard enough, I could just be useful _that_ way and no one would laugh at me for wanting to be a mage because I was _good_ at it and–” 

A hand fell to her shoulder, and she was surprised to find Felix standing there. His fingers squeezed, and he said calmly, “You don’t have to stress over it, Annette. You’re plenty useful, with or without bladesongs and magic.” 

After a brief silence, Sylvain stage whispered, “Wow. I think that’s the nicest thing Felix has ever said.” 

Ingrid elbowed him, but the look on her face clearly showed that she agreed. Felix scowled at them and dropped his hand from her shoulder, and Annette laughed, startled, and felt her fading flush renew. 

“If you would?” the voice was closer than before, and Annette was startled to notice that the prince had stepped forward, and was holding his hand out for the lance. Hanneman passed it over, and with his one remaining eye, Dimitri examined it. His face betrayed nothing, but then he passed it back to the soldier and gave Annette a warm, if tight, smile. “Once again, Annette, I’m wholly convinced of your skill, and I thank you for stepping forward.” 

He held out his hand, and it took Annette an embarrassingly long moment to realize he wanted to shake. 

“I do want to ask,” he mused, after he released her hand, “why _you_ didn’t say anything, Felix, if you suspected it?” 

_Oh no_ , she thought, _here it comes_ . Felix had said he’d take full responsibility, and he’d assured her that the Kingdom army didn’t kill people for hiding bladesingers or hiding that they _were_ a bladesinger, and here’s where she found out if that was true or not. She wanted to protest or something, but whatever words she had caught in her throat. 

“Annette wanted to join the army on her own merits,” Felix said, albeit a little stiffly. “She didn’t know, or even believe that she could bladesing, and we didn’t need it then. It wasn’t my place to push her.” 

“Felix–” she started, but he shook his head at her, and she stopped. 

Dimitri, on the other hand, chuckled. 

“I see. Well, it is true that we were not in dire need of bladesingers or bladesongs in the past, and Annette is an asset regardless of whether or not she had come forward with the ability. And…” Dimitri clapped Felix on the shoulder, and gave him a nod. “I will always have faith in your judgment, Felix.” 

“Now that Annette has chosen to come forward,” Byleth mused, face neutral as she glanced down at the sword that had made its way into her possession, “and has offered her services, it would be a shame not to accept. The question remains on how best to use her ability in the days before we reach Fhirdiad.” 

Everyone moved back to their respective seats, and Annette prepared to be dismissed until Dimitri asked for a seat to be provided for her. She nearly protested, but Mercie shushed her and sat next to her, only a few seats down from where she’d originally been sitting. The others at the table, composed of faces Annette mostly recognized as those who had been introduced as members of the Blue Lions from Mercie’s year at Garreg Mach, shuffled to accommodate this new arrangement as discussion continued on. 

She met Felix’s gaze, from far down the table, and while he didn’t smile with his expression, he gave her a nod. It calmed her still racing heart, at least for the moment, and she was able to take a steadying breath, her best friend’s hand clutched tightly in her own, as the meeting progressed. 

It was a blur, for the most part, as some of the discussion went well over her head and had her out of her depth. Things she would have learned in the Officer’s Academy, doubtlessly, that she would have been able to experience long before now had her life gone according to her own plans. She did her best to listen and take it in, since it was likely to be her only chance. 

She learned that they were to resume the march around midday tomorrow. It wouldn’t be a full day of travel, but it would give the army time to prepare and assist the injured that would be cleared to fight in a few days’ time in Fhirdiad to their horses or to a wagon. It seemed that this had been discussed at the previous meeting as well, which Mercie must have forgotten to mention, though probably unintentionally. Annette kept her thoughts to herself, and while she desperately itched to take notes, she refrained from asking someone for quill and ink. 

Deciding how to use her bladesinging turned into a whole discussion, a bit later. There were several suggestions but no real sustainable way to proceed. It wasn’t feasible, Manuela argued, for soldiers to bring their weapons to her one at a time for a bladesong, since apparently they were very draining and it would take far too long. It seemed that her assistance would have to wait and that they were at an impasse. 

At least, until an offhanded suggestion by Ashe drove the tent to a pondering silence. 

“What if you just...sing at our armory wagons?” he’d said, haltingly. “Since we’ve seen that you can affect even the blades you’re not focusing on. Each one may not be perfect, but it’ll still have some beneficial effects, and it covers ground faster. And we can figure something out for at least some of the weapons that the soldiers are using currently, even if it’s just...having you sing near them while they’re on watch, or something.” 

Ingrid had added, “You could even focus on half of a wagon at once. Sing on one side of it, and then walk around to the other side and sing there. If you have time and energy for all of that. I don’t know how tiring bladesinging is.” 

“I like singing,” Annette said softly, then raised her head to look around. “I don’t think I really ever feel tired after singing, but it could be because I’ve never really _tried_ to do it while bladesinging. But I could sing for hours and not be tired of it.” 

“It does wear you out,” Manuela interjected, shifting and leaning forward with an elbow on the table. No matter how the woman sat, Annette observed, she always seemed to do it in a way that was somehow provocative. “You are younger than I am, though, and your bladesongs are leagues ahead of my own, so for you it could be different. I’d recommend maybe starting tonight, once we adjourn, with one cart, and see how you feel in the morning.” 

Byleth nodded thoughtfully. “Then...one cart, singing from both sides of it. Or, if there’s room to sit or stand in the cart itself, maybe once from there.” 

“We could...try one of each?” 

The others looked at her, surprised. 

“So what you mean is you want to try singing for one cart from the outside. Two bladesongs,” Sylvain began, then raised a third finger for everyone to see. “And then for a second cart, you want to try and sit or stand in the middle and do one bladesong, for a total of three.” 

Annette nodded slowly. “Isn’t that...the quickest way to test it?” 

A slow murmur once more rounded the tent, and Manuela laughed. 

“We may be able to arrange for a horse to ride tomorrow, if you’re too weary after that,” she mused, “but I can’t guarantee that.” 

“It doesn’t matter. Even if I’m tired, I’ll push through. We don’t have a lot of time left before we reach Fhirdiad, and I want to help as much as I can before then. Even if I’m tired, I can walk, just like everyone else.” 

She glanced around at the others, until her eyes lingered on Felix. He narrowed his eyes at her, but she knew it wasn’t in anger or annoyance. There was a certain softness to the set of his mouth and his eyes, so she knew it was the look he gave when he was showing a little bit of disapproval and a lot of concern. She smiled, first at him, and then at the rest of the officers at large. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, after all.” 

* * *

Shortly after the meeting, some of the officers returned to their duties, while others followed the group that headed off to the armory wagons. Manuela, as the resident expert on bladesinging, came with her, giving her standard singing pointers–how to control her breathing, how she had to do what felt instinctively right when bladesinging, and more. Her own father had dismissed himself for other duties, and her heart sank as she watched him walk away, without even a _good luck_ or a _well done_ to his only child. But Felix was there instead, glaring at him as he walked away and then looking at her in that same soft way she was becoming increasingly convinced he used with no one else. 

The king-to-be, along with Byleth, Dedue, Ingrid, Sylvain, and Mercedes were all among those that came with her. She was glad of Mercie’s company, for although she probably wanted to get back to their wounded, she wouldn’t dare forsake Annette here. It meant the world. 

“Let’s start here,” Byleth glanced over some of the wagons and gestured. It wasn’t a full wagon by any means, but there was clearly space within for standing. “One song for this one, from inside. Any objections?” 

“It’s as good a place to start as any,” Manuela offered shortly, then ushered Annette over. “Up you get, Annette.” 

A soldier nearby offered her a hand up and she took it, thanking him softly, _nervouosly_ , as she clambered awkwardly into the cart. She picked her way between a few barrels, praying silently _not_ to trip over something in this area full of dangerously sharp and pointy objects, and came to a halt. 

“Around here?” 

“Perfect,” Manuela said, as Byleth nodded silently. 

Annette’s heart raced, and yet somehow not as much as it had in the command tent. Now she _knew_ she was a bladesinger. It had been jarring, when Felix had first suggested it after years and years of believing that she could never be one, but now she couldn’t help but believe it. They wouldn’t put on a show like this just to spare her feelings, not when there was so much more at stake. So she took a breath to steady herself and sought out a pair of dark amber eyes, barely visible from where their owner stood in the shadow of his taller friends, and closed her eyes. 

“ _Oh, how I just love to clean,_ ” she started softly, waxing stronger into the library song as she opened her eyes and looked around her. _Keener_ , she willed _, stronger_. 

Her song seemed to end too soon, and she was taking a breath, glancing around, and watching as Byleth herself climbed into the wagon and wandered carefully around the crowded space, occasionally pulling a blade, or even an arrow, to examine. Annette pulled herself together and made her way back out of the wagon, taking Ingrid’s offer of a hand down as Manuela reached up to pull a sword from the edge and examine it. 

“From the front,” Byleth’s soft voice sounded, and she laid another blade, an axe, at the end of the wagon for Manuela to look at. The bladesinger hummed and glanced over them both, then nodded. 

“It worked,” she said, glancing back and forth. “Mayhaps not as well as the lance and sword from the briefing, but it still had some effect.” 

“Incredible,” Mercie murmured, then claimed Annette in another hug. “You’re amazing, Annie!” 

“I-it’s not really…” she started, but then realized she didn’t know how to finish. Thankfully, she was saved from answering by Byleth, who motioned them on to another wagon. It wasn’t the next, but the one after, and glanced back to Annette. 

“This one. One from each side, like suggested.” 

“Y-yes!” 

“You’ve got this, Annie,” Mercie squeezed her shoulder and gave her a light push forward. Byleth stepped back to observe from the rear of the wagon as Annette took her place and started into another song. It was a baking song, the one that Felix had first intruded upon, and it just felt right, somehow. 

The other side of this wagon was treated to the box song, and Annette had never felt so tired after simply singing before, even if she didn’t show it. Instead, she stood back and waited while Byleth and Manuela and this time even Prince Dimitri examined the blades from the wagon. 

And then Felix offered Manuela another sword, by the hilt. She glanced at him, giving him an odd look, but took it anyway. He hadn’t been in the wagon that Annette had just been singing for, after all. But Manuela gave the sword a once-over, then stepped more closely to a nearby brazier and repeated it, before arching a perfectly shaped brow in question. 

“Where was this sword?” 

“The middle,” he said simply, gesturing to the one wagon between. Manuela’s brow rose even higher and Annette’s chest squeezed. _From that far away? That’s impossible_! 

Manuela must have been thinking something similar. 

“I’ve never seen such a range on a bladesong before,” she mused, trailing her fingernails along the flat of the blade. “It’s much weaker, to be sure, but it’s still there...and this, from a blade you weren’t even within ten feet of. If you weren’t such an earnest sort of kid, I wouldn’t believe you’d never had training before.” 

“I...are you sure?” she blinked, glancing between Manuela, the blade in her hand, and Felix. “That’s so far away, it can’t possibly…” 

“It definitely did,” Manuela cut her off. “I _did_ say it was much weaker, if you were listening, but there’s a faint bladesong on it now, and it’s fresh.” 

Annette wanted to be able to look at some weapon and just _know_ there was a bladesong, and how old it was. It seemed like something out of one of the novels she enjoyed talking about with Ashe and Ingrid and on occasion Mercie, but everyone seemed to trust Manuela on it so she knew it had to be real. 

“Thank you, Annette,” the voice was different, and Prince Dimitri stood before her again, giving her a– _the prince was bowing to her?_

“N-no, thank you! For giving me the chance to help, I mean!” she waved her hands in front of her frantically, begging silently for him to stand back up. “I just. I probably should have said something sooner, but then I was afraid–” 

“Afraid?” Sylvain asked, aghast. “Of what?!” 

“She thought you were going to execute her for hiding it,” Felix scoffed, returning the sword to the other wagon. “When we met, she had been arrested by Imperials who had figured out she was a bladesinger, even though she still didn’t believe it, and were trying to get her to the main host.” 

“And you didn’t tell us that from the start?!” Ingrid asked, loudly and incredulously. Annette flinched a little, ready to claim that it was her fault, until Ingrid turned and said, vehemently, “Annette, we would _never_ blame you for something you didn’t know!” 

“That’s what _I_ told her.” 

“And then you said you’d take full responsibility if they _were_ going to punish me!” Annette shot back at Felix, crossing her arms and fighting off a flush. She hadn’t expected him to sell out the circumstances leading up to their meeting at a time like this. “That wasn’t exactly solid proof that I wouldn’t get punished!” 

Sylvain snorted, and Mercie burst into giggles behind her. 

“He meant well,” Sylvain offered. “It just shows that he still doesn’t know how to talk to girls–” 

“–or people in general, you mean,” Ingrid interrupted, but she shook her head. 

“I’m so sorry, Annette,” Dimitri shook his head. “I wouldn’t think of punishing you for that. It’s been a practice in wars in the past, I know, but as my father before me refused to adhere to it, so would I. But knowing that you were almost taken to the Empire…” 

“I’m just...lucky to have met Felix when I did,” Annette said quickly, to cut off the conversation. It felt so similar to the one she’d had with Felix himself, when he’d told her he believed she was a bladesinger. “All’s well that ends well, and all. I try not to think about too many what-ifs, now that I’m here!” 

“Oh, Annie,” Mercie wrapped her in another hug, and Ingrid squeezed her shoulder. 

“We’re glad you met Fe then, too,” Ingrid said earnestly, and the others agreed in their own way. 

Felix avoided eye contact, and Sylvain laughed and slung an arm around his shoulder. He muttered something in Felix’s ear that earned him an elbow in the ribs, and even though he pulled away wincing, Sylvain still had a smile etched across his face. 

“You probably want to return to the medical tents with us,” Manuela interrupted the conversation, having examined a few more weapons and given her findings to a soldier with her to record, “but I won’t allow it. After this, you’re going to go back and get some more rest. I know you said you haven’t ever felt tired after singing, but this is going to be different. Get a good night’s sleep and tell us how you feel in the morning.” 

“I can still–” 

“I agree with Manuela,” Byleth cut Annette off. “Get some more sleep, and you can help out with the healers in the morning before we march.” 

The prince chuckled and nodded. “You’ve done quite enough for tonight, Annette.” 

“B-but…” 

Mercie gave her arm a tug. “No buts, Annie. I’m going to go get you all tucked in with a cup of tea, and then you’re going to rest for the night!” 

She had no choice at that point but wish the others a good night and allow herself to be dragged away in the direction of the tent, while whining at Mercedes. And dealing with her friend’s teasing, in return, about how she seemed much closer to the army’s stoic “lone wolf” swordsman than previously expected. 

She couldn’t help thinking she wasn’t nearly as close as she wanted to be, but managed not to say as much to her friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAND thank you for reading another chapter! This one felt...just long and filler-y as I was re-reading it and making my final edits, but I hope it's still nice and good and everything you wanted from me lol.
> 
> This scene was just a really important scene and I didn't realize it was gonna be so darn long. I have another scene I've been waiting to share for AGES now coming up next chapter, and while I HOPE to share it with you on Sunday I might slip up and not get it to you until Tuesday, like I just did with this one (oops). 
> 
> <3 <3 thanks for all the support with this one, and we're definitely in the final stretch now, kiddos! I predict after edits and splits that this will be 2-3 more chapters, but we shall see! :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was one thing Annette was quite certain Felix would loathe to hear, it was that she deemed him a bit predictable. His tent was pitched near enough to where she’d expected it to be the night before, tucked close to the awnings that served as their temporary armory. She knew there would be few ears around as the early nightfall of a Faerghus winter encroached around her, and she drew in a slow breath. The icy air felt like daggers in her lungs, but she was used to that by now. 
> 
> Her goal was to sing for whatever blades Felix had left in his tent, and to hope that whatever ones he took with him into battle would hold strong. So that is what she’d do, frigid cold and intrusive thoughts be damned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO. Yes, I'm still alive. A bunch of things just got in my way, and I apologize for the delay! But without further ado, chapter 11 of Silversong!

She was fine. The singing was a lot more draining than she’d expected, but Annette pulled herself out of bed as early as expected, prepared everything for the march later in the day, and once more joined Mercie at the medical tents. Before she could set to work, Manuela, grumbling about a lack of beauty sleep, accosted her with questions about how she was feeling, which Annette fielded as easily and flippantly as she could. Weariness was something that everyone would be facing after the battle, and she wouldn’t draw more attention to her own than necessary. 

“Well, you can’t hide the bags under your eyes,” Manuela sniffed, then rubbed her own face, “but neither can I. You say you’re feeling fine, so I’ll believe you. Now go find Mercedes and see where she wants your help. I’ve got other things to do.”

“I’m fine! Thanks!” Annette gave her a nod, and excused herself to find Mercie again. 

She wasn’t in the same tent as before, so Annette had to ask around. It took her about five minutes to get a direction, and another few to actually find her friend—in the back of a tent, kneeling to test the mobility of a wounded soldier’s ankle. 

“Oh, Annie, you’re already back!”

As usual, it seemed Mercie had some sort of sixth sense. Annette laughed. “Yup! Manuela said to help wherever you want me to.”

“Let me just finish here, and we’ll move to the next tent together,” she smiled up at Annette, then turned the smile on the soldier. “How does that feel? Any pain?”

The soldier grimaced a little but deflected until Mercedes’ stare unnerved him and he groaned. It’s how she got people, particularly of the stubborn Faerghan variety, to admit they were in pain. So he answered that yes, it did hurt, but not as much as before and that he thought he’d be able to walk on it.

Annette made her way to the entrance of the tent as her friend continued talking to the soldier, and shivered a little as the draft blew through the gap in the canvas flaps. 

She _ was _ fine...but being slightly tired from bladesinging definitely helped the cold bite right through, as though chilling her to the bone. Annette huffed and tugged her cloak tighter and worried about composing herself so that Mercie wouldn’t notice. The last thing she wanted was for her friend to  _ refuse _ her help, when Annette knew they could use all hands on deck for tending to the wounded.  _ Especially _ in the hours before they resumed the march on Fhirdiad.

And a few moments later, when Mercedes reappeared at her side and gestured out the tent, Annette managed just a cursory shudder as they slipped out into the cold, carefully arranging the flaps closed behind them, and moved on to the next tent.

When they entered, the priest inside nodded tiredly and continued rebandaging a wound on his patient’s arm. They returned the greeting, Mercie calmly and warmly and Annette as cheerfully as she could muster, and then she followed where Mercie directed her, to a cot in the corner that was hard to see past all the supplies and other things in her way. 

“You start over there, Annie, and I’ll start over here. She’ll need a little healing to help along her recovery, but then you’ll just have to change her bandages. Call for me if you need anything else as we work around, okay?”

Mercedes had taken on her business tone, and Annette could only nod, and offered a grin and a bold, “I’m your girl!” 

Her friend smiled and reached out to pat her on the shoulder. “That’s right! Now let’s get to work.”

They parted, and Annette went where she’d been directed. This tent had a vague sense of familiarity about it, but she figured it was from her after battle haze, carrying and tending to the wounded, so she brushed it off for the moment. But only a moment, because as she stepped up, her patient looked up and smiled at her.

“Heya, Annette,” Vara said, shifting a little. She was sitting up, which was both good and bad. Good, because last time Annette had seen her, she’d been unconscious with her front soaked in blood as the healers stripped away her armor to heal and bandage the wound, but bad because she shouldn’t be moving so much.

“You shouldn’t be up,” she blurted, and Vara grimaced a little and laughed.

“You aren’t the first person to tell me that, and you certainly won’t be the last. I just couldn’t be still any longer,” she waved her hand dismissively. Annette noted it was the one opposite of the deep wound from her armpit to her navel. “But Goddess, it’s good to see you. I haven’t seen you since we toppled that golem and charged, and if it weren’t for the others telling me they  _ had _ I would’ve thought the worst.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Sorry for what?” another laugh. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. I was told you’d been by while I was out, by Mercedes, but—”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner!” the words came out in a rush as the broken sword under the edge of the rickety cot drew her attention. “I-if I  _ had _ , maybe you wouldn’t have taken that hit—”

Vara reached out to grab Annette’s shoulder, wincing at the movement and effectively cutting Annette off before speaking any words herself. But after a moment, regaining her breath, Vara said, “I don’t know what you’re going on about, but I would’ve taken that hit regardless of whatever you did or didn’t say, and it’s not your fault.”

“ _ I’m so sorry _ ,” Annette blurted again, leaning forward to use a light healing spell, just to dull the pain before she got the bandages off to look at the wound and heal it more properly. “I’m here to help heal you, not to make you worry about me, but—”

“Stop apologizing, Annette,” she snorted. “I suppose we need to get these bandages off and all, then?”

Annette nodded. “Yes, I need to look at it properly, then clean it before I heal it a little more, and then we can get fresh bandages in place. And then…” she swallowed thickly. “Then I’ll tell you what I was  _ actually _ apologizing for, and you can decide whether you want the apology or not.”

Vara gave her an odd look, but nodded. “Alright, I can do that.”

They lapsed into a brief silence while Annette worked on carefully removing the bandages, until Vara asked about what everyone was doing outside. It was during this period, right as Annette finished cleaning the wound, that realization dawned. This was a wound that would keep Vara from marching to Fhirdiad with the rest of the army. It sounded like the swordsmage had realized as much herself, if the wistful way she spoke was anything for Annette to go off of. 

At best, Vara could be a member of the group the healers might send in a few days as reinforcements, presuming the siege lasted long enough to need them. And even that seemed a distant thought, when Annette saw how deep the wound really was. Even with regular healing, staggered so it wouldn’t exhaust the healers or the patient, this was the kind of wound that would take days, maybe even a couple of weeks. A month or more, certainly, if it wasn’t aided by magic.

Annette tried to steady herself and resumed her healing, answering Vara with her tone as level as she could. When the woman in front of her had been a large part of steadying her nerves for the previous battle, Annette found it hard to imagine marching to the next one without her by her side.

At length, Annette finished healing and bandaging the wound, and sat back on her heels after washing her hands in the basin of rapidly cooling water next to her. She looked at them for a moment, before turning to Vara and taking a deep breath.

“I was apologizing earlier…” she started, but her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and started again. “I was apologizing earlier for not telling people that Felix thought I was a bladesinger earlier.”

“Felix? As in, Sir Fraldarius? Or...Lord, I guess.”

Annette nodded. “Yeah. He told me a while back that he thought I was a bladesinger, and I didn’t believe him, not really. So I never said anything. And then I heard that a lot of our weaponry was broken, or damaged, or weakened after yesterday...and I thought I had to try something.” 

“But try what?”

She looked at her hands for a long moment before looking up to Vara.

“I interrupted an officer’s meeting to offer to help.”

“You did  _ what _ ?”

“They listened, after Felix asked them to, then had me try. Bladesinging, I mean.”

Vara’s mouth was open in shock, and then she closed it. “I can’t believe you interrupted a briefing for something you weren’t sure was true! I mean, it was Lord Fraldarius who said it, and he doesn’t even  _ like _ bladesinging, so to have him acknowledge it...and? What did the others say?”

Annette hadn’t expected her to have such an interest in it, since she still felt it was her own fault that Vara’s blade had broken, but she haltingly continued, “Manuela says it’s the...strongest she’s seen,” the words still didn’t feel real to her. “I-I’m not sure if she’s just making it up or something, but even if it helps a little, I want to try whatever I can.”

“The  _ strongest _ ? That  _ Manuela’s _ seen?” Vara hissed. “Annette, what kind of steelsong or levinsong can you sing?!”

Oh. Right. She hadn’t mentioned that part, had she?

“It’s, um, they said it’s a silversong.”

Her friend let out a string of colorful curses that weren’t meant in a negative way but still took her by surprise. “By the Goddess, Annette, and you didn’t  _ believe _ him? You didn’t  _ know _ you could bladesing?!”

“People always  _ laughed _ at me when I sang,” she shot back, almost defensively. “My songs are just...cute! Childish and cute! No one ever thought they’d work as bladesongs, and after a while I just...started believing them.”

“Goddess,” Vara breathed out. “Guess it’s true that the more powerful the mage, the more powerful the bladesong, especially given how rare it is that one can do  _ both _ with any success.”

“I’m not that powerful!” Annette put her hands up in front of her, aghast. “I just study a lot, and I really only have two spells I’m actually any good at—”

“You say one more word and I’ll light you on fire,” Vara warned, and Annette shut her mouth. The other woman sighed and leaned back against the wadded fur she was using as a pillow. She was silent for long enough that Annette wondered if she should speak again, until Vara let out a slow breath. “You’re amazing, Annette. Quick and clever, and  _ strong _ , and now a bladesinger? They won’t know what’s hit ‘em until it’s too late. So kick some extra Adrestian ass for me until I can get back out there, won’t you?”

It was a dismissal, but a kind one. She was tired, probably, from healing and moving so much and so soon, not to mention the battle fatigue she probably couldn’t shake yet. 

“I’ll do whatever I can,” Annette promised, clasping Vara’s offered hand and rising to her feet. “ _ You _ get some rest, and get ready to celebrate our victory in Fhirdiad, okay?”

It felt weird, to be so outwardly  _ confident _ about a battle where the odds seemed fair stacked against them, but it made Vara crack a grin, so it was worth it.

“Will do, healer Annette,” she teased, leaning back and closing her eyes. “Go get ‘em.”

Annette gave a nod, and right before she stepped away, Vara added, “Oh, and Annette? You still don’t have anything to apologize for. None of this is your fault, you know.”

“Th...thank you,” she murmured, and Vara waved her off. After slipping away, her eyes burning suspiciously like she was going to cry, Annette’s racing heart was able to calm a bit. She moved on to the next cot, and although she could still feel the weariness in her chest and in her limbs and just about  _ everywhere _ , she could press on. Healing, then marching later—she’d do it for Vara, who couldn’t because she was wounded, and for all the others that had fallen. 

* * *

Marching proved tiring, but she soldiered on. At night, she sang for wagons of swords, around small cookfires that soldiers cooked hurried meals at with the lack of an established mess tent for the sake of urgency, and as she walked anywhere besides. When she occasionally bumped into those who knew that she should be resting, she smiled as brightly as she could to ward off looks of disapproval.

Mercie was particularly prone to those looks, and Manuela would merely sigh at her and sternly issue a prescription of sleep. Sylvain looked surprised, the time he nearly trampled her in his haste to get somewhere, but then gave her a lascivious, though more teasing than truly flirtatious, wink and remarked upon her wandering the camp at night.

"Ah, but I suppose if it were Felix you were looking for, it might interest you to know that he is restless tonight and on watch near the eastern perimeter."

Annette was thankful for the twilight and whatever it might do to hide her flush.

"It might," she managed after a moment, her voice still sounding strangled despite her best efforts to produce the contrary, "were I indeed looking for him. But I, feeling restless myself, simply wanted a walk and some fresh air."

Sylvain looked as though he would open his mouth to speak once more, but a huff sounded behind him and Ingrid came into view, face awash in the pale light of the fading day.

"Or, what she really means—it is none of your business what she's doing or where she's going. But…" the blonde looked at her for a moment. "You could tell her to return to her tent and rest, as her commanding officer, before she tires herself completely by walking around and  _ singing _ all night."

Annette huffed softly and crossed her arms. It was an excellent move to showcase her displeasure at being so easily read while simultaneously giving her front a bit of respite against the biting chill of a Faerghus night.

"And what of you two?" Annette shot back before she could stop herself. "One should think that an army's officers should be just as well rested, if not moreso, than their soldiers."

At this, the redheaded man tilted his head back and laughed. 

"Well said, well said, but we do also need to be diligent. Which is why  _ most _ of the officers are curled up in their tents, while we take our turn at the opposite."

"And that said," Ingrid interjected, "we need to check in with the patrols. And Annette?" She paused until she was certain she had Annette's attention. "We appreciate all you're doing for us, but Felix has the right of it. We'll need your skills as much on the battlefield as we can use them between, so be sure to rest properly before we reach Fhirdiad."

Annette flushed deeply at that and opened her mouth with the intention of protesting. After a moment of embarrassing silence, she exhaled slowly and just nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

Sylvain beamed at her, and Ingrid grinned. They parted then, each side offering a few words in farewell, and Annette heard the two bickering softly as they wove between tents and away from her. She smiled a little to herself, and then Annette tugged her cloak closer once more and turned in the direction of her own tent. When she made it back, Mercie would give her that disapproving stare, knowing everything even without Annette speaking a single word of it, but then she usher Annette to get abed and ask if she’d like a cup of tea. 

Her steps faltered a little when she realized that her friend would probably  _ also _ assume she had sought Felix’s company, and her skin blossomed warmly again.

But...then she thought of the number of blades he carried on his person, and how her gut wrenched at the mere thought of them failing him when he needed them most. She knew there would be a lot for him to do tomorrow night, especially since they intended to camp within sight of Fhirdiad after the march, and it would be the perfect time for her to at least sing for whatever blades he might not carry around camp with him. He liked to pitch it near the armory tents, where fewer other soldiers were ever around, and it wouldn’t be unusual for her to be singing in that area. 

Most of the soldiers seemed to realize, as word had spread fast in only a matter of days, that Annette was a bladesinger and had been singing for their blades. And a decree had been issued, just short of an order, for battalions to bring their blades to the smiths during certain periods in the evenings. Annette’s restless wanderings and soft songs through the tents were to help assuage her fears for those who did not follow that request, in the hopes that she could do something for them.

Felix was among those she hoped to help, perhaps higher among them than she’d let herself admit. He was around her a lot, but he had so many different swords. There was no guarantee he’d take the ones she’d already enchanted, either wittingly or not, and she didn’t want to take more chances. Not where his life was concerned. Her plan solidified more and she prayed silently that, come tomorrow eve, he’d stick true to his routine and pitch his tent away from so many prying ears.

The thought tucked itself firmly in her mind as she approached her tent, and she resolved not to mention it to Mercedes as she pulled the flap aside and slipped in. At the immediate questioning, she explained away the red on her cheeks as the cold. It wasn’t a lie, but she wondered if it might not have been the whole truth. Mercedes eyed her carefully with her knowing gaze, but sighed and tutted and gestured to a tea kettle. 

“I’ve only just returned from heating water for tea. Shall we?”

Annette felt the smile creep across her face and she nodded. The two friends settled in for a brief chat and hot tea, and a bit later for sleep. They had another long day ahead of them, and then the day after, should all things go according to plan, would be Fhirdiad. There was much to keep her awake, but as bone weary and tired as she was, she soon drifted off.

* * *

_ Tomorrow _ .

The word was a promise, but also a dread deep in her chest. It made a lump rise in her throat and her palms sweat and her heart race, but it also filled her with determination.

_ Tomorrow _ .

Tomorrow, they would make their final push on the capital city of Fhirdiad. The battle threatened to last longer than the previous one by far, as the reports indicated the city had fortified defenses outside its walls as well as within. The push upon the palace itself would be the hardest, she was sure, but breaching the defenses at the gates would be the first step. It would boost morale, and it would guide them through.

Annette had to believe that, or she feared she might falter. 

She didn’t care for leaving her mark on the war or anything like that, considering that the grand total amount of time she’d reasonably be able to count as being a member of the army would be a month, if she was generous and included some of the time she had been traveling with Felix, but she wanted to help. If her bladesongs had contributed to the effort in some way, then she would be happy, but it wouldn’t be enough for her. She had to do more, with her own hands.

And then words, not her own, fluttered through her mind. Annette sat up almost instantly at recalling them.

_ You’re plenty useful, with or without bladesongs and magic. _

Her chest tightened, and she glanced towards the entrance to the tent. Surely it had been long enough for Manuela to leave, if she’d even been watching to make sure Annette didn’t exit the tent. And it probably wasn’t too far to where Felix’s tent was pitched. Perhaps, even if she wasn’t permitted to sing for the entire army’s weapon supply, she had the energy to sing for a surly swordsman’s handful of blades.

Not that Maneula’s disapproval could stay her hand now, when it was a course of action she’d already decided on the previous night.

She rallied herself and pulled on her cloak. Annette couldn’t help a nervous glance as she exited her tent, searching for Manuela or anyone else that could be keeping an eye on her, but then she moved on. She hadn’t  _ confirmed _ where Felix’s tent was, but it wasn’t far to where she’d expected it to be and she turned her steps easily in that direction. Even if it wasn’t exactly where she expected, she was determined.

The tent wasn’t hard to find, and she found herself warmed with a sense of smug satisfaction.

If there was one thing Annette was quite certain Felix would loathe to hear, it was that she deemed him a bit predictable. His tent was pitched near enough to where she’d expected it to be the night before, tucked close to the awnings that served as their temporary armory. She knew there would be few ears around as the early nightfall of a Faerghus winter encroached around her, and she drew in a slow breath. The icy air felt like daggers in her lungs, but she was used to that by now. 

Most of the soldiers were around campfires, eating what could be their last meal and laughing with their comrades in whatever sense of comfort they could find. The officers, she knew, were huddled in the command tent for a briefing, and the somehow foreboding but achingly familiar stone walls of the capital city of Fhirdiad stood, dark and looming, a solid backdrop in the near distance. 

Annette drew her cloak as closely around herself as she could and exhaled a shaky breath, standing in the shadows between the back of Felix’s tent and the wagon of weapons behind it.

“C’mon, Annie,” she murmured softly to herself, closing her eyes. Her chest tightened at all the thoughts racing through her mind—of her singing not being enough, of shattered swords and broken bodies, of failing  _ him _ — and she released the edges of her cloak to clap her hands, hard, against her own cheeks. “That’s  _ enough _ .”

Her thick gloves had padded her self-inflicted blow, but her cheeks were cold and the sudden contact stung regardless. It pulled her to the present—the snow swirling around her, falling almost deceptively gently in the air heavy with tension; the chill, seeping through her heavy fur cloak and thick traveling clothes; the canvas of Felix’s tent, stretched taut between its poles and tethers and an achingly familiar teal that reminded her of his clothes. She reached out to feel the canvas in front of her, only to laugh at herself when it was her gloved fingertips that met the fabric instead of her skin.

Annette took another breath and turned her back to the tent, sinking slowly down to the frozen ground as she wrapped her arms around her knees. She closed her eyes and started to hum, at first. The familiar tune of the dungeon song tumbled out, but she changed abruptly to a song about spring when the lyrics in her mind tried to send her thoughts careening down a separate, darker path.

Her goal was to sing for whatever blades Felix had left in his tent, and to hope that whatever ones he took with him into battle would hold strong. So that is what she’d do, frigid cold and intrusive thoughts be  _ damned _ .

The words started slipping through her lips next, and she tried her best to regulate how loudly she was singing. It wasn’t hard, since the way she sat curled in on herself made it hard to truly open up and breathe properly. She wondered, idly, if that mattered as much in bladesinging as it did in a church choir, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand, or stretch out. Her fingers dug into the thick skirts around her legs, into her flesh until they ached from being locked in place and and from the cold even through the cloth, but still she sang.

Annette didn’t know how much time had passed. She wasn’t even sure how many songs had slipped out, but she thought it was three or maybe four. This  _ was _ the fourth, she decided, as her voice transitioned into the bridge of her swamp beasties song.

She didn’t hear the footsteps against the frozen ground, nor the crunch in the light dusting of snow, but she did hear his voice.

“Annette?”

It was soft, tentative, and she didn’t jump quite as much as she thought she normally would have. When she jerked her head to the side, her lyrics dying on her tongue, she first spied those familiar boots that stopped mid-thigh. She swallowed her surprise for a moment and turned her gaze up to his face, only to see that her internal surprise was also reflected in Felix’s expression.

“Felix!” her words rushed out, breathless. She thought to scramble up, but she found she couldn’t move. “I thought you would still be in the b-briefing! Or training!” her words faltered for a moment as a shiver went through her, and when had the night grown even colder?

His expression flickered and she couldn’t read it, but after a moment, he slowly knelt next to her and asked, haltingly, “Were you...waiting for me?”

“I—no—I mean—yes? Ugh, no, I wasn’t, I was just…” She scrambled for words before letting out a whine and burying her face in her hands, pressing them against her knees. “I was just hoping I could...I dunno, sing for any swords y-you left in your tent while you were out, and then s-slip away before you got back. You just had to ruin my plans, you—you big meanie!”

“Not a villain?”

In the smallest of voices, Annette mumbled, “No.”

“Not evil?” she heard him shift a little next to her, but she didn’t raise her head.

Instead, Annette shook her head and groaned, “Stop it, Felix.”

“Stop what?”

She couldn’t see the expression he was making, but she thought his question was genuine. Felix didn’t really have it in him to pretend very much, or for very long. She didn’t even know what she wanted him to stop, only that him being so close to her and catching her in the act was making her frozen cheeks burn, so when she found her voice she wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

“Stop...whatever you’re doing. Looking at me? Teasing me? I don’t know!”

“Annette,” his hand shifted, and then she felt warm fingers close gently around her wrists, pulling her head up and her hands away. After a moment, as if trying to decide what to say, he gave her a strange sort of grin and asked, “are you blushing?”

A wave of warmth washed over her, as if she was suddenly placed back in front of a cozy fire instead of sitting out here on the cold ground, when she realized that he was  _ teasing _ her. That grin was warm, and light, and she reached for him to give him a half-hearted shove.

“You big  _ meanie _ ,” she repeated, her tone a whine, and then she averted her gaze but didn’t deny it.

After a moment, his tone level, Felix asked slowly, “Are you...worried about me?”

She wanted to deny it. It was an instant desire, born of embarrassment and a bit of a childish petulance, but she hesitated on it. And then, after a moment, she met his steady gaze. Her words failed her, and so she simply nodded, closing her eyes and looking away. She heard Felix’s shaky exhalation, but he didn’t speak for a long time so she remained where she was, waiting. Warmth spread through her from where his fingers were still lightly grasping her wrists, and she fought the urge to shift and take his fingers in her own.

“So you were…” his voice hitched a little, “trying to bladesing for me?”

She couldn’t bring herself to look directly at him, feeling as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs, so she just nodded again. Her eyes trailed to the two swords strapped to his waist, and one of her hands fell against her knee at the loss of his hold as he, almost nervously, rested a hand on his sword hilt. He was clearly still watching her, to know where her gaze had gone, and she felt her cheeks burn even more. 

_ You’re already here, Annie _ , she told herself then.  _ He already knows. What’s the harm? _

Annette bit her lip, nervously, then finally turned her gaze up to him and asked, “Can I...can I try to sing for the ones you’re taking into battle with you, specifically? Please?”

Her voice cracked on her plea, and his eyes held her gaze. He appeared to be weighing the options, but his face set after a sharp breeze blew through and Annette shuddered involuntarily. He pushed himself to his feet, just as graceful as he ever was, and she felt the loss of his touch until he reached out and offered his hand.

“First, let’s get you out of the wind,” he said shortly, and after a moment of stunned silence, Annette nodded and took his hand. He hauled her easily to her feet and pulled her with him, around the front of his tent and then inside. She wanted to catch his hand again when he dropped hers, but bit her lip and curled her fingers into a fist at her side. Once again, the loss of contact was something she felt deeper than she had expected, and to push that thought—and what it might mean—from her mind, she watched him silently instead.

Felix moved around his tent for a few moments, glancing occasionally at her but saying nothing. After placing a few items on the ground near his bedroll, he paused and removed the swords at his belt. Annette didn’t understand for a long moment, until he stepped back and spoke, and she saw the swords laying, unsheathed, next to a handful of shorter blades.

“These are most likely the ones I’m taking.”

His implication set in, then— _ here they are, sing for them _ — and a breath she didn’t realize she was holding rushed out.

“I can—?” she started to ask, glancing up at him, almost nervously.

When Felix nodded, she moved to kneel on the ground next to them, but Felix tugged her aside and motioned wordlessly to the bedroll. She felt her face heat again, but thankfully Felix didn’t notice as he settled himself next to the space he left for her. 

When Annette continued to hesitate, Felix glanced up at her and said simply, “Sit.”

She did. 

Felix wasn’t too close to her, but he wasn’t too far away, either. He had shed his cloak and tossed it, haphazardly, across the end of his bedroll, and Annette carefully followed suit. The inside of his tent was already much warmer than the open air outside, and that coupled with his presence made her skin feel as though it was burning. After a moment of contemplation, Annette decided to hell with it, and tugged her gloves away from stiff fingers. She flexed them for a moment, sheepishly avoiding Felix’s concerned gaze, and reached over to run her finger carefully along the blade of the wo dao before her.

If what Manuela had taught her a bit earlier in the day was correct, she could now at least slightly identify the presence of a bladesong. It was in the way the temper lines of the blade seemed to shine differently, and she could see it along the already keen edge of the blade. It was her work—she recognized the sword as one from the moments they had stolen together on the road in the past several weeks. 

For whatever reason, suddenly having Felix’s permission to sing for his swords made the task a lot more daunting. She could feel his eyes on her, and it made her a bit self-conscious. It didn’t matter that he was the first person she trusted to believe in her abilities, even as a man who never cared for bladesinging until he’d met her. What mattered was the way it sent her heart racing and how hard it made finding lyrics among the scattered thoughts cluttering her mind.

After a silence so long she thought for sure Felix would soon break it, she took in a shuddering breath, rested her hand more heavily against the nearly frigid silver blade beneath her touch, and started to sing.

She turned her attention to his other sword as she transitioned easily into another melody, losing herself in tracing patterns against the cool metal. It made it easier to focus on her task and her goal if she was doing something more with her hands than just letting them rest against the silver blades. This second sword filled her with a mix of wonder and awe and just a bit of pride. That Felix would let her sing for such a priceless blade as one of the swords of Zoltan was nothing short of a miracle, she thought.

It  _ was _ one of the swords he’d had with him when they first met, she realized belatedly. By that logic, she had already enchanted it before she’d even known she  _ could _ , and he didn’t even appear to be angry about it.

No...rather, when she stole a distracted glance, there was a soft smile on his lips. Then he started humming along with the song she was singing, and it nearly caused her to falter. She turned her full attention on the blade once more, flushing clear to the tips of her ears, and tried not to hear the very soft, pleasing baritone layered under her song.

Annette could tell that the songs she’d been singing were getting to her, the weariness settling in, but when the melody for that song died out she still searched for another. One more would be fine, she thought, but she didn’t want to skimp out on his smaller blades in case of an emergency. She started to consider whether two more songs would be too much as she placed her hand across the dagger in front of her and drew in a breath.

_ I’ll just have to try _ , she decided. Before she could start singing she heard Felix shift and then his hand, his warm palm and its rough calluses, pressed against her own, stilling her motions.

“You’re tired,” he said, in a tone a lot softer than Annette had ever heard from him. “You’ve done more than enough, Annette.”

His concern drew the air from her lungs, and she started to protest. “But—”

“You’re still insisting on joining us tomorrow, when we begin the siege. Aren’t you?”

“Of course!”

“Then you need your rest just as much as anyone else,” his fingers curled around hers, and she drew in a sharp breath. It made his grip spasm tighter for a heartbeat. “Annette, these were already some of the strongest damn blades in the entire army, because of how they were made but also because you’ve been singing around them since long before you knew you were a bladesinger. You don’t need to push them any further.”

“But what if—” she started again, and he sighed and cut her off.

“ _ Annette _ ,” he reached out and tugged her away from his knives. Felix pulled her close and pressed her forehead against his shoulder, his other hand still grasping hers, and breathed in slowly even as Annette let out a startled squeak. “You’ve done all you can, and now you  _ need _ to rest.”

After a long moment, during which she struggled to come to terms with the fact that she could hear his heartbeat racing and feel her own react in kind, she felt herself relax and exhaled slowly. She allowed herself this moment to lean against him, and then surprised him in turn when she snaked her arms around his torso. 

“What if your sword breaks, Felix?” she finally managed to get out a full question, though her words are slightly muffled against him. “What if I didn’t do something right and messed it up, or if the Empire and Dukedom bladesingers are just better than me with my silly little songs?”

“They won’t,” he said, his arms sliding down until they both rested around her, holding her. “They  _ aren’t _ .”

“Then what if we revealed my songs too late to be of any real use?”

“We didn’t,” he assured her again, curling against her. He wasn’t one for a lot of words, but his steady confidence and his solid presence did more to soothe her than a hundred such words could.

Finally, with a shaky breath, Annette managed to utter the truth closest to her heart, in the only way she could muster the courage for.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else, Felix. Least of all you.”

He inhaled sharply, and then his fingers dug into her as he held her tighter. 

“Then you have to take care of yourself,” his words were soft, in opposition to the way he held her as though she was slipping through his grasp. He tilted his head down, closer to her ear, so that his nearly whispered words wouldn’t go unheard.

“ _ You’re the last person I want to lose. _ ”

His words made her heart feel as though it had stopped beating, which was a startling contrast to the way it had been racing, but she hiccuped out a wet-sounding laugh. Annette felt her fingers curl into the back of his shirt, and she pressed closer to him, listening to his heartbeat as it finally started to steady itself. He didn’t say anything, not about her laugh or the way she held onto him, but she heard him exhale shakily as he rested his head against hers.

Annette wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, holding each other, but at length she realized that Mercedes would start wondering where she was and managed to pull away. She couldn’t meet his eyes when she expressed her need to leave, but he stood and pulled her to her feet wordlessly. His hands lingered when he helped her with her cloak, and then pulled his own over his shoulders.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said before she could ask, his voice rough with emotion. 

She nodded and allowed him to lead her out before he fell in step beside her. He didn’t reach for her hand or her arm again, though she found herself wishing he would, but they walked so close that their arms kept brushing and she would content herself with that.

When she arrived at the tent she shared with Mercedes, she smiled slightly up at him and offered a small, “Thank you.”

He grunted, pink high in his cheeks, and then said, “Good night, Annette.”

Her chest tightened, and she acted before she could talk herself out of it. She braced herself on his arm and rose on her toes to press her lips quickly against the cool skin of his exposed cheek before she dropped back down, her face alight.

“Good night, Felix.”

She turned and practically fled into the tent behind her, not bold enough to linger and see the expressions that flitted across Felix’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal is to finish posting Silversong by the end of 2020. But with the way that 2020 has been all around...who knows? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it, and please forgive me for the long wait between this chapter and the last! Thanks for reading :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> My amazing partner for this, having to deal with a scatterbrained disaster like me, is the creator of the title banner of Silversong, and also of another piece you should end up seeing a bit later, so check out [ @soultyghost ](https://twitter.com/soultyghost) over on twitter!
> 
> You'll be able to find me on twitter as [ @apanda013 ](https://twitter.com/apanda013) if you so desire!


End file.
